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th*  Author  of  this  Volume. 


A  SUCCESSFUL  MAN. 

tamo.     Cloth.     $1.00. 


"  The  story  will  bring  a  new  laurel  to  the  successful 
novelist.  As  in  '  A  Diplomat's  Diary,'  so  in  this  we 
find  the  same  intimate  contact  with  life,  the  same  firm 
grasp  of  character.  It  has  the  touch  of  art  in  its  logical 
structure  and  development,  which  promises  even  better 
things  from  the  pen  of  Julien  Gordon  in  the  future." — 
AT  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

"A.  strong  study  of  social  conditions,  that  cannot 
fail  to  impress  a  wholesome  and  fruitful  lesson.  .  .  . 
The  most  admirable  and  charming  character  is  the 
faithful  wife." — Boston  Journal. 

"  The  author  takes  on  no  flights  of  fancy,  but  tells 
the  tale  with  such  modesty  and  grace  as  insure  atten 
tive  hearing,  and  furnish  a  moral  that  many  full  well 
comprehend  but  too  few  ever  take  to  heart  until,  alas, 
too  late." — Davenport  Democrat. 


Will  be  sent  by  the  publishers,  free  of  expense,  on 
receipt  of  the  price. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY, 

PHILADELPHIA. 


DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 


BY 

JULIEN  GORDON" 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

1891 


Copyright,  1890,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 


December  30. — Would  God  I  had  never 
seen  the  Princesse  Flavie,  or  Madame  Harnay, 
that  miserable  sycophant,  as  cruel  and  wicked 
a  counsellor  to  her  royal  mistress  as  she  has 
been  a  false  friend  to  me  and  others !  Was  ever 
a  rat  caught  in  such  a  hole !  What !  I  am  in 
bad  odor  at  court,  and  with  the  Empress; 
must  decamp  for  the  nonce  because  a  silly 
woman  and  a  base  one  have  .  .  . 

Well,  they  fancied,  did  they,  that  they  could 
so  dispose  of  me,  so  encompass  and  trap  me  ? 
Did  they  think  that  because  I  am  a  bluff,  honest, 
outspoken  sort  of  fellow,  and  loyal  to  my  sov 
ereign,  I  could  be  taken  in  such  a  broken  net  ? 
There  were  too  many  holes  in  it,  mesdames,  and 

3 


4  A  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

you  forgot  that  a  grizzled  diplomat  who  has 
learned  the  arts  of  dissembling  and  of  strategy 
Boon  recognizes  arid  fathoms  such  jejune  ma- 
noBuvres. 

Gott  in  Himmel !  here  I  am  sent  off  on  this 
fool's  errand  in  the  depth  of  what  promises  to 
be  a  Siberian  winter,  so  that  a  broken  heart 
shall  have  time  to  mend  itself  and  a  ripple  of 
idle  gossip  to  subside.  It  is  too  absolutely  ab 
surd  !  What  a  twinkle  there  was  in  the  old 
man's  eyes,  to  be  sure,  when  he  bade  me  fare 
well  !  "  This  mission  is  a  delicate  one,"  he 
said,  "  but  a  man  who  can  extricate  himself 
from  the  hands  of  his  enemies  as  you  did  at 
S.  can  beard  the  Czar  in  his  den,  Narishkine 
et  Cie!  Only  to  you  would  I  intrust  this 
secret  trust."  Beloved  old  man !  He  pressed 
my  hand  warmly. 

"  Va,  tu  es  un  brave  gar^on  !"  he  said. 

"Brave?"  Yes,  brave,  as  the  world  goes 
here  !  Brave  to  prefer  my  own  name  and  my 
own  laurels,  my  own  modest  fortune  and  self- 
won  honors,  to  the  slavery  of  a  hateful  union 
the  titles  won  by  a  low  compact  and  the  ill- 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  5 

starred  gains  of  a  wealth  wrung  from  the 
foolish  affection  of  an  hysteric  girl. 

Bah !  And  to  say  I  did  hesitate  one  mo 
ment  !  There  is  the  blemish  on  my  'scutch 
eon  !  The  one  weakness  I  blush  for  to-night 
under  my  cap,  in  the  stuffy  wagon  of  this 
dirty  train,  which  is  puffing  me  away  towards 
the  haven  where  I  would  not  be. 

Yes,  I  was  tired.  I,  strong,  self-nurtured, 
self-reliant  I,  hesitated  a  moment.  "What  was 
it  for  ?  The  girl  ?  The  illustrious  connection  ? 
The  hunting-grounds  in  the  Hartz  Mountains  ? 
Leisure  and  indolence?  The  .  .  .  booty? 
No !  Ten  thousand  times  no ! 

What  was  it,  then,  that  made  me  chicken- 
hearted  for  an  hour  ?  Tired,  old  man,  tired ! 
I  remember  that  an  ancient  sage  said,  "  Go 
not  thou  to  meet  thy  fate ;  it  is  seeking  thee," 
or  words  to  that  effect  (I  was  never  an  apt 
quoter),  and  I  told  myself  this  was  the  shib 
boleth,  and  that  the  Princesse  Flavie  was  my 
fate,  and  Madame  Harnay  its  messenger.  Not 
an  angel  one,  surely ! 

Bon  I    Here  we  stop ;  the  Russian  opposite 
i* 


6  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

snorts  as  loudly  as  the  engine,  and,  waking 
up,  asks  me  to  give  him  a  light  for  his  ciga 
rette.  I  light  my  own,  and  I  look  out  through 
the  dim  smoke  on  the  little  wayside  station. 
People  are  getting  out  hurriedly  to  take  a 
train  for  Breslau.  A  splendid  couple  are 
walking  up  and  down,  both  hugely  tall  and 
wrapped  in  furs.  The  lady  has  weary  blue 
eyes,  which  are  effective.  They  are  followed 
by  "smart"  servants,  as  the  English  say.  I 
think  they  must  be  themselves  English  or 
perhaps  Russian.  They  are  unknown  to  me. 
The  lady  is  chic  in  a  big,  grand  way ;  not  like 
a  Parisian.  The  man  looks  like  an  officer. 

There !  they  have  vanished  into  the  waiting- 
room,  and  I  shall  see  them  no  more  forever. 
My  neighbor,  the  Russian,  wishes  to  talk. 
My  thoughts  not  being  agreeable,  I  am  not 
averse  to  listening.  He  tells  me  his  name  is 
Paul  Pantchoulitzew.  He  gives  me  his  card, 
and  I  find  he  is  a  gentilhomme  de  la  chambre  de 
S.  M.  VEmpereur  de  Russie,  a  title  somewhat 
vague,  and  which,  I  believe,  is  conferred  on 
nobody  in  particular  for  no  particular  motive. 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  ^ 

He  looks  like  my  brother  Marc.  He  is 
rather  an  elegant  fellow,  which  goes  without 
saying,  as  he  resembles  a  member  of  my 
family. 

"Well,  "  Marc"  tells  me  he  is  forty,  and  is 
going  to  Riga  to  be  married.  I  do  not  tell 
him  that  I  am  forty-two,  and  am  going  to 
Petersburg  to  avoid  marriage.  It  would 
sound  flat. 

I  covertly  observe  him,  and  catch  a  crooked 
reflection  of  myself  in  a  cracked  mirror  op 
posite.  The  comparison  favors  me.  I  look 
younger  than  he.  Yes,  there  is  no  doubt  of 
it.  This  is  a  consolation  for  all  the  vexations 
of  the  past,  and  the  indignation  that  chokes 
me  when  I  think  that  I  am  to  be  doomed  to 
pass  the  next  six  months  in  a  country  I  abhor. 
It  is  something  to  look  younger  than  one 
really  is,  and  is  as  pleasing  to  Antony  as  it 
would  be  to  Cleopatra,  for,  look  at  it  as  boldly 
as  we  will,  face  it  as  courageously  as  we  may, 
age  is  tragic.  It  means  "  get  out  of  the  way  !" 
Faites  place  aux  jeunes.  It  means  the  retired 
list,  respectability  and  inanition. 


8  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

I  wonder  if  it  was  the  first  signs  of  deca 
dence  that  made  me  hesitate  a  moment  when 
the  Princesse's  hand  was  offered  to  me! 
Probably.  It  is  an  agreeable  fact  to  remem 
ber,  however,  that  I  could  not,  when  I  was  a 
boy  oflicer  of  twenty,  have  repudiated  the 
thought  with  hotter  violence,  and  that  the 
lassitude  of  will  came  after  matu»er  considera 
tion.  The  fires,  it  seems,  still  smoulder.  I 
sigh,  and  ask  myself  to  what  purpose. 

December  31. — Here  we  are  at  the  Russian 
frontier !  We  are  at  once  pounced  upon  by  a 
set  of  barbarians.  Queer-looking  guards,  in 
wide  light  clothes,  with  pompons  on  their 
heads,  surround  us.  They  want  our  pass 
ports.  I  hail  Gustav,  who  emerges  with  di 
shevelled  hair  and  limp  uniform,  his  nose  red 
der  and  crookeder  than  usual.  Gustav  says 
his  nose  was  peppered  with  shot  in  the  war, 
but  if  its  symmetry  was  marred  in  the  con 
flicts  of  battle  or  of  love,  certainly  it  is  not 
ornamental. 

I  am  cross,  and  find  fault  with  him ;  and  he 
searches  wildly  for  my  passport  in  the  depths 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  9 

of  a  mysterious  valise  from  which  he  never 
parts  for  an  instant.  He  mutters  that  that 
idiot  August  must  have  made  away  with  it. 
Here  August,  my  orderly,  appears  on  the 
scene,  frais  et  dispos,  with  his  curled  blonde 
moustache,  and  his  white  hands.  He  finds 
the  passport,  with  indignant  sang-froid,  on  the 
top  of  my  dressing-case,  and  scorns  to  answer 
Gustav's  sneers.  All  the  time  he  is  smiling 
at  the  slender  maiden  who  is  peddling  nothing 
less  innocent  than  chay  and  little  cakes,  and 
making  eyes  at  my  pretty  man-servant.  She 
evidently  looks  upon  me  and  "  Marc"  as  upon 
excellent,  respectable,  middle-aged  men  of 
doubtful  charm.  Ah,  youth !  Youth,  beauti 
ful,  inconstant :  how  soon  thou  spreadest  thy 
wings! 

Strange,  that  vanity,  which  Flavie's  passion 
for  me  might  have  roused  in  a  less  philosophi 
cal  mind,  has  not  been  awakened  within  me ! 
No,  not  a  breath  ! 

My  papers  require  only  a  glance.  My  per 
sonal  recommendation  to  His  Majesty  from 
His  Majesty  lay  me  open  to  much  boot-licking 


10  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

and  obsequious  courtesy.  My  boxes  are  hardly 
unlocked,  while  the  other  passengers  wring 
their  hands  and  cry  in  vain  over  their  emptied 
trunks,  duly  rummaged  by  official  fingers. 

A  lady  in  a  long  cafe  au  lait  cloak,  lined 
with  white  fiir,  and  with  a  white  for  cap  on 
her  blonde  red  hair,  has  just  walked  through 
the  station.  She  is  rather  a  picturesque  fig 
ure,  albeit  her  costume  is  too  showy.  How 
few  women  have  attractive  backs!  There  is 
an  eloquence  in  a  woman's  back.  This 
woman's  shoulders  are  not  satisfying;  they 
are  artificial.  I  remember  the  back  of  a  cer 
tain  Greek  goddess  in  the  Hermitage  Sculp 
ture  Galleries.  It  is  several  years  since  I  saw 
it  during  that  hurried  passage  through  Peters 
burg  on  my  way  to  Bucharest,  and  yet  I  recall 
distinctly  its  strong  and  reposeful  beauty.  I 
must  go  and  have  another  look  at  it  some 
afternoon,  when  I  can  rest  an  hour  from  my 
cares  of  state.  Thank  God  I  have  the  knack 
of  speed,  and  in  the  afternoons  I  shall  have 
time  to  study  art. 

I  remember  how  happy  I  was  in  Venice 


A  'DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  \\ 

seven  years  ago,  how  I  revelled  in  its  glories. 
Men,  intrigues,  political  and  social,  the  arts 
of  war  and  of  government,  personal  ambitions, 
all  fell  from  me,  and  even  you,  mesdames,  had 
no  share  or  parcel  in  my  reveries.  I  would 
like  to  die  in  Venice !  A  woman  would  have 
spoilt  it  all.  They  always  do  !  And  now  .  .  . 
to  sleep. 

January  1. — I  look  out  upon  the  stretches 
of  lonely  steppes.  Not  the  real  steppes,  they 
tell  me,  but  they  are  real  enough  for  the  for 
eigner.  It  is  cold,  and  I  light  my  cigarette, 
and  puff  smoke  against  the  window,  that  the 
warmth  may  loosen  the  light  film  of  frost 
upon  the  pane.  So  ...  I  gaze  upon  a  dim 
white  world.  Here  and  there  low-lying  ham 
lets,  huts  huddled  together  pathetically  in  the 
grayness  of  the  early  dawn,  as  if  for  mutual 
support  and  warmth,  their  tan-colored  roofe 
the  one  bit  of  color  against  the  sombre  sky. 
Rarely,  very  rarely,  sledges  drawn  by  horses, 
some  driven  by  moujiks,  and  others  by  their 
women,  move  slowly  across  the  waste.  The 
men  wear  sheepskin  coats  girt  in  about  their 


12  A  DIPLOMATS 

sturdy  waists,  and  boots  made  of  the  same 
hardy  material.  The  women  are  sexless  bun 
dles,  dressed  like  the  men,  only  wearing  dingy 
kerchiefs  instead  of  sheepskin  caps  upon  their 
uncombed  hair.  They  all  look  stolid  and  stu 
pid,  but  kindly,  when  they  are  near  enough  to 
the  track  upon  which  we  stand  for  us  to  catch 
a  sight  of  their  upturned  faces. 

Monsieur  Pantchoulitzew,  or  "  Marc,"  as  I 
call  him,  does  not  care  to  look  out.  He  has 
kept  on  his  sleeping-cap,  and  seems  restless. 
He  looks  at  his  watch  and  says  "Katori-chas  ?" 
to  .the  conductor,  and  finds  we  are  behind 
time.  Evidently  he  is,  or  thinks  himself,  in 
love.  He  shows  me  a  photograph  of  his 
jvmcie.  She  looks  like  some  one — wait !  Yes, 
it  is  like  little  Jeanne  Overbeck.  How  odd  in 
this  world  that  every  one  reminds  us  of  some 
body  else ! 

I  once  read  an  essay,  by  an  American  phi 
losopher,  I  think,  translated  in  one  of  our  peri 
odicals  ;  it  deplored  this  fact  that  everything 
and  every  one  reminded  us  of  something  else. 
The  author  thought  this  most  undesirable. 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  13 

He  advocated  self-reliance,  and  the  avoiding 
of  imitation.  He  said  we  were  nowadays 
only  parlor  soldiers.  I  don't  know  much  else 
of  this  author,  but  one  sentence  clings  to  my 
remembrance :  it  was  about  "  the  magnetism 
of  originality."  "Even  impure  and  trivial 
actions  are  illumined  by  this  science-baffling 
star,  if  the  least  mark  of  independence  ap 
pears." 

I  hate  all  the  Americans  I  ever  have  met, 
but  this  man  certainly  had  some  ideas.  To 
be  sure  I  have  only  seen  a  few  American 
demoiselles  and  their  colorless  mothers  at 
Baden,  Hombourg,  and  Spa.  The  girls  were 
not  colorless,  but  something  like  pretty,  scent 
less  flowers,  and  lacking  the  ewige  weiblichkeit. 
The  husbands  and  fathers  were  always  in 
America,  just  embarked  or  embarking.  I 
fancy  that  they  are  better  than  their  women, 
if  they  had  only  the  time  to  be  known.  The 
United  States  is  a  curious  phenomenon,  with 
which  they  have  had  something  to  do. 

"Well,  such  as  she  is,  this  round-faced  Riga 
young  lady  who  is  to  marry  Mr.  Pantchou- 
2 


- 


14  A  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

litzew  seems  to  be  all  perfect  in  his  eyes.  He 
is  childishly  desirous  that  I  shall  ask  him 
questions.  I  ask  him  a  few,  because  I  am 
good-natured,  and  so,  with  the  talk,  and  chay, 
and  beer,  and  cigars,  the  day  slips  into  the 
great  darkness,  and  engulfs  us  at  the  station 
of  our  journey's  end.  Petierbourk  !  Petierbourk! 
Petierbourk  I 

I  find  myself  almost  clasped  in  the  arms  oi 
Berg,  who  has  everything  ready  for  me.  He 
has  the  ambassador's  sleigh.  Ossip,  the 
chasseur,  alert  and  pompous,  takes  possession 
of  my  servants  and  my  valises.  Berg  pulls 
me  this  way  and  that.  We  jump  into  the 
far-lined  vehicle ;  Ivan,  the  coachman,  grins ; 
his  beard  is  all  covered  with  silver  frost-drops. 
The  little  black  horses  neigh  and  fret,  with  a 
halo  of  snow  on  their  flowing  northern  manes. 
We  draw  up  the  great  soft  skins  about  our 
chins,  and  off  we  dart  like  gnomes  of  the 
night,  quick  as  a  whirlwind  through  the  silent 
streets. 

January  4. — Count  Berg  has  certainly  done 
well  for  me.  I  have  a  large,  cheery  apartment 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY'  15 

on  the  Quai  de  la  Cour,  close  to  our  embassy, 
and  there  is  a  private  stable  near  where  he  has 
four  fine  horses  for  me,  and  a  well-appointed 
turnout  Gustav  and  August  have  unpacked 
my  effects.  I  have  been  superintending  the 
arrangement  of  some  photographs,  books,  and 
bibelots. 

After  breakfast  I  had  a  long,  earnest  inter 
view  with  Narishkine.  He  is  very  cordial,  pol 
ished,  and  non-committal.  Truly  an  agreeable 
man,  and  a  valuable  servant  to  his  country,  and 
there  is  unrolled  before  me  such  a  vista  of 
possibilities ! 

This  record,  however,  of  my  daily  life  is  not 
to  be  the  confidant  of  state  secrets.  I  might 
fall  dead  of  ennui  one  of  these  cold  mornings, 
and  the  public  censors  might  pay  my  domicile 
an  inspectory  call,  or  the  secret  police  invade 
its  sanctities,  merely  by  way  of  seeing  if  I  leave 
any  last  messages  for  them.  No,  only  my  own 
brain  and  heart  shall  be  repositories  of  my 
sovereign's  commands,  and  of  my  own  tactics 
in  carrying  them  out. 

I  will  only  jot  down  here  and  there  super- 


16  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

ficially  such  light  details  as  may  refresh  my 
memory  for  days  and  times  and  people  and 
places. 

I  am  surprised  and  a  little  annoyed  to  find  I 
am  to  be  lionized.  I  had  hoped  to  arrive  un 
noticed,  and  escape  all  but  the  necessary  visits 
of  ceremony.  It  seems  not.  My  table  is  al 
ready  piled  high  with  invitations.  My  duty 
lies  largely  in  courtesy,  and  I  must,  with  many 
a  grimace,  bow  to  my  fate.  Lord  Faville  is 
here,  and  it  seems  he  and  I  are  the  rivals  of 
the  hour.  To  be  coupled  with  Lord  Faville 
for  the  favors  of  fashion !  I  confess  that  its 
whims  are  not  flattering.  He  is  here  for  pleas 
ure,  and  I  for  work. 

January  5. — -I  went  to-day  at  eleven  o'clock 
to  wait  upon  the  Czar  at  the  Anitchkoff.  It  is 
greatly  improved,  inside  and  out,  since  its  erec 
tion  by  the  great  Catherine.  A  handsome 
palace,  magnificently  furnished;  and  the  pri 
vate  apartments  have  a  cosey  modern  comfort, 
with  cheerful  windows  looking  on  the  great 
"  Prospect"  and  inner  courts. 

The   Czar  pressed   my  hand  warmly,   and 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  17 

talked  on  general  topics.  It  is  evident  he 
desires  to  gain  time.  He  asked  elaborately 
about  the  health  of  the  royal  family,  and  about 
my  own.  He  said  the  Empress  would  receive 
•me  in  the  afternoon,  and  dismissed  me  with  an 
"Adieu,  man  cher!" — "We  shall  see. 

In  the  afternoon,  en  route  to  my  interview 
with  the  Empress,  I  left  my  card  at  all  the 
embassies  and  legations.  Berg  accompanied 
me.  He  told  me  the  news,  the  gossip,  and  the 
scandals  of  this  naughty  town.  He  told  me  I 
must  go  to  the  circus  on  Saturday  nights. 
There  was  a  benefit  to  the  Cornalba  on  Sun 
day,  which  would  be  fashionably  attended  by 
the  court,  and  altogether  desirable.  There 
was  an  exceptionally  fine  troop  at  the  Marien- 
sky;  and  on  Mondays  I  must  have  a  fauteuil 
at  "The  Italiens."  Then,  of  course,  I  must 
officially  attend  the  first  ball  at  the  Winter 
Palace,  and  a  bal-masque  at  the  Princesse  Sol- 
tikoff's ;  and  then  there  were  the  state  dinners 
to  which  I  had  been  or  would  be  bidden. 

"WTiile  he  talked  I  looked  at  him.  He  is 
unchanged,  except  that  his  hair  is  grown  gray ; 

b  2* 


18  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIART 

much  more  so  than  mine,  which  is  hardly 
tinged  at  all.  He  wears  it  short,  and  it  stands 
up  like  a  brush  on  his  round  head,  Berg  can 
hardly  be  much  over  thirty-five.  He  has  the 
same  expression  as  of  old,  at  once  rusi  and 
ingenuous.  In  his  fur  coat  and  sealskin  cap 
he  looks  like  a  young  Jesuit  priest;  in  his 
sword,  spurs,  and  casque,  like  a  rakish  soldier. 

Berg  is  deep.  I  am  attached  to  him  in  a 
way,  but  I  do  not  altogether  trust  him.  He 
has  too  much  curiosity  and  not  enough  im 
agination  to  be  a  comrade  to  my  taste.  Still, 
he  knows  his  place  and  keeps  it. 

The  Empress  looked  at  me  with  sweet,  cold 
eyes.  She  tried,  evidently,  not  to  be  perfunc 
tory,  and  I  tried  not  to  let  her  see  that  I  thought 
her  so.  In  the  effort  I  felt  perhaps  she  might 
say  of  me  as  my  Emperor  once  did  of  a  youth 
ful  attache  presented  to  him  for  the  first  time. 
"  He  treated  me  with  great  indulgence." 

In  her  low,  slightly  husky  tones,  she  said 
some  kind  words  of  flattery,  congratulating  me 
on  the  faith  I  inspired  in  my  sovereign,  and 
that  a  man  as  young  as  I  was  honored  in  beingj 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  19 

intrusted  with  such  important  matters ;  "  for," 
she  added, "  I  do  not  meddle  in  politics,  as  you 
know,  but  I  keep  still  in  the  current." 

This  imperial  lady  dislikes  me,  I  believe,  for 
she  hates  my  nation,  and  in  me  she  sees  to-day 
an  enemy.  Ah,  my  fair  foe,  I  will  wage  no 
war  on  you  and  yours  if  you  will  but  smile 
upon  me  !  I  have  seen  "War  close ;  the  God 
of  battles  has  breathed  into  my  ear,  and  the 
word  he  uttered  was, — Peace !  I  kissed  her 
fingers  "  indulgently,"  and  Berg  and  I  were 
ushered  out  by  Prince  D.  and  passed  down 
from  hand  to  hand  until  the  sentries  saluted 
us  at  the  palace  portals. 

Here  we  met  Strogonoff,  and  stopped  to  chat 
with  him.  I  then  dismissed  my  sleigh,  and 
walked  home  alone.  Certainly  in  the  twilight 
hour  this  city  of  pink  plaster  assumes  a  fan 
tastic  loveliness.  I  strolled  down  the  Nevsky 
Prospect  with  its  va  et  vient  of  rushing  canies, 
its  crowded  thoroughfare  of  quaint  prome- 
naders,  a  motley  crowd  of  curious  folk,  hurry 
ing  hither  and  thither  like  the  unreal  phantoms 
of  dreamland.  Turks,  Armenians,  eagle-eyed 


20  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

Jewish  pedlers,  Russian  generals,  half  hidden 
in  their  shubas,  fish-venders  in  their  low 
sledges,  offering  their  unattractive  frozen  fish, 
while  the  pigeons  circle  about  with  rustle  and 
flutter  and  gurgle,  trying  to  get  a  crumb  to 
stop  their  hunger  pangs. 

Opposite  the  chapel  of  the  Gostinii  Dvor, 
where  the  little  sisters  pray  night  and  day, 
and  where  the  swinging  lamps  burn  before  the 
sacred  Icons,  a  funeral  train  was  passing.  To 
my  Protestant  simplicity  there  is  much  that  is 
repellent  in  the  ceremonial  of  this  half-pagan 
cult ;  yet  the  love  of  art  and  the  sensuous  tem 
perament,  which  I  draw  from  my  mother's 
family,  are,  in  spite  of  myself,  more  or  less  en 
thralled  by  its  imposing  grandeur.  First  came 
fifteen  avant  coureurs,  bearing  fifteen  white  satin 
cushions,  on  which  reposed  the  decorations  of 
the  defunct  official.  The  car  was  all  ablaze 
with  gilded  ornament,  and  drawn  by  four  black 
horses  richly  caparisoned.  The  priest  followed, 
with  flowing  hair  and  beard,  and  then  the 
widow,  dragging  her  sable  garments  through 
the  snow,  alone  and  unsupported.  At  a  re- 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  21 

spectfiil  distance  from  her  solitary  woe  a  train 
of  relatives  and  friends,  all  afoot. 

"With  the  ponderous  movement  of  the  Greek 
ritual  it  takes  half  of  the  day  to  marry,  bury,  OP 
baptize.  Delicate  women  stand  and  walk  in 
the  cold  for  hours,  and  such  is  their  faith 
that  they  faint  not.  Certainly  what  we  have 
gained  in  light  we  have  lost  in  fervor. 

I  shall  become  a  "dome  maniac"  here. 
These  fairy  constructions,  bubbles  of  gold 
blown  against  the  wintry  sky,  are  strangely 
alluring.  I  walked  through  St.  Isaac's  rever 
ently  enough ;  there  was  a  service  of  song  in 
progress.  It  was  penetrating  in  the  extreme, 
and  I  sighed,  with  a  vain  longing,  for  a  breath 
of  my  old  romance.  I  looked  behind  the 
columns  in  vain  for  some  fair  form  which 
would  awaken  me  to  a  thrill  of  joy,  or  of 
ardor,  but  I  only  saw  General  Karazin,  mum 
bling  his  prayers  before  a  battered  image. 
What  endless  orisons  the  old  reprobate  must 
recite  if  he  means  to  atone  for  his  merry  past ! 

Ah,  romance!  delight!  how  long  since  I 
have  felt  their  summons,  and  how  rarely  come 


22  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

to  us  these  radiant  guests  we  each  of  us 
expect ! 

White  and  still  seemed  the  misty  quays  as  I 
emerged  upon  them,  after  the  busy  Nevsky 
and  the  dark  cathedral.  I  lounged  along, 
looking  down  upon  the  squalid  Esquimaux 
tents  on  the  Neva,  and  up  at  the  women  of 
fashion,  who  smiled  at  me  as  they  passed  like 
the  wind  in  their  luxurious  sleighs. 

The  Princesse  Soltikoff  stopped  to  speak,  on 
her  way  to  Madame  de  "Walkenstein's  recep 
tion.  She  insisted  I  must  not  fail  at  her 
masquerade  ball  the  22d.  "  You  must  come 
en  bourgeois"  she  said,  "  for  only  the  women 
will  mask." 

"  They  always  do,"  I  replied. 

"  And  you  ?"  she  laughed.  "  Do  you  emu 
late  them  in  this  ?  They  call  you  the  impreg 
nable,  but  I  call  you  the  impenetrable.  Oh, 
we  have  heard.  .  .  .  !  "  and  she  made  a  wave 
of  her  hand  as  if  encircling  wide  horizons. 

And  now  to  dinner  at  my  embassy;  but 
while  I  dress  I  reflect  that  at  forty-two  distrust 
and  disillusion  have  made  havoc  of  a  man's 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  £3 

fatuity.  In  the  smiles  of  these  dames  I  only 
suspect  a  trap. 

January  18. — To-day  is  the  great  national 
festival,  "  The  Blessing  of  the  Waters."  It  is 
a  pretty,  childish  whim.  I  was  with  the  royal 
ties  all  of  the  day.  I  have  lived  in  courts 
much  of  my  life,  yet  I  am  no  real  courtier. 
My  tastes  are  simple;  I  prefer  the  tent.  Per 
sonally  I  am  enrage1  for  war, — and  I  have  come 
hither  to  discuss  ...  a  peace  policy.  Per 
sonally  I  love  the  camp,  the  bivouac,  or,  at 
worst,  my  quiet  rooms,  my  books,  and  my  pipe, 
and  I  am  forced  to  smile  and  fawn,  ground 
in  the  mortar  of  that  exacting  mistress,  eti 
quette  ;  I  am  obliged  to  play  the  gallant  and 
the  courtier. 

"Why  do  I  do  it  ?  why  ?  why  ?  First,  because 
I  adore  my  country,  and  can  so  passionately 
best  serve  her,  and  secondly,  because  I  am 
ambitious,  and  fame  lies  here. 

This  fete  day  is  full  of  color.  Travellers 
should  see  Petersburg  in  winter.  The  streets 
are  filled  with  merry -makers,  merry  as  these 
Russian  giants  can  be,  with  a  tinge  of  tristesse 


24  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

always ;  a  sort  of  half-sad  patience.  Here  and 
there  groups  of  the  disaffected,  wild-haired 
Nihilists,  as  they  are  called,  gather  sombrely. 
Why  are  communism  and  dirt  synonymous  ? 
The  Russian  plotters  seem  to  have  taken  a 
vow  never  to  clean  their  nails  and  heads. 

I  thought  the  Empress  looked  a  trifle  pale. 
The  corps  des  pages  drove  up  in  the  gay  Im 
perial  equipages.  Every  grade  of  the  Tchin 
was  agog  and  out  in  its  carriage,  and  even  the 
sun  was  brighter  than  usual  for  this  benedic 
tion  of  the  sleeping  river.  They  break  the  ice 
to  bless  the  shadowy  waters. 

In  the  evening  I  was  invited  to  a  supper 
given  at  his  rooms  by  one  of  the  young  Chev 
alier  guardsmen,  Baron  Strogonoff.  He  is 
distantly  related  to  the  Scheremetiefs,  a  dash 
ing  young  fellow,  and  "a  favorite  at  the  court. 
He  is  said  to  be  deeply  in  debt,  but  lives  well 
.  .  .  for  that  reason.  We  were  fifteen  in  all. 
We  had  a  jolly  enough  time  from  twelve  to 
one,  with  songs,  stories,  and  excellent  wines, 
and  my  own  spirits  were  of  the  gayest.  I 
was  rather  surprised  when  Berg  suddenly 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  25 

told  me  that  a  lady  was  expected.  She  ar 
rived  about  1.30  o'clock.  It  was  none  other 
than  Madame  Nathalie.  She  came  direct 
from  the  ballet,  and  had  not  waited  to  ... 
dress ;  the  display  of  her  charms  was  extremely 
generous. 

I  regret  to  say  that  these  young  officers  had 
drunk  a  good  deal,  and  that  their  manners  at 
this  hour  were  not  marked  by  the  self-control 
and  calmness  our  civilization  exacts.  The  fan 
had  waxed  a  little  loud.  Madame  Nathalie 
got  more  admiration  this  time  than  even  she 
had  calculated  upon;  she  grew  hotly  indig 
nant,  and  a  half-hour  after  her  entree  draped 
herself  in  her  shuba  and  left  abruptly.  I 
offered  her  my  arm  to  her  carriage. 

"  Ce  sont  de  grossiers  animaux,  monsieur"  she 
said  to  me.  "Mais  vous,  vous  ties  un  grand 
seigneur" 

She  looked  at  me  boldly  with  her  coarse, 
soft  eyes,  but  she  was  a  woman  after  all,  and  I 
noticed  that  her  mouth  trembled. 

"  I  was  one  of  them,  madame,"  I  said,  "  with 
them,  and  in  their  company,  in  their  name, 

B  3 


26  ^  .DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

therefore,  albeit  a  foreigner,  I  beg  your  par 
don." 

She  smiled  faintly,  grasped  my  hand 
warmly,  and  drove  away.  I  should  hardly 
have  noted  here  this  trivial  incident  had  it 
not  had  a  sequel.  I  found  more  or  less  of  a 
brawl  when  I  returned  to  Strogonoff's  dining- 
room.  He  had  hurried  down-stairs  only  in 
time  to  see  Nathalie's  brougham  turning  the 
corner.  He  was  worried  and  angry,  and 
accused  one  of  his  guests,  a  foolish  boy,  d'Au< 
billy,  a  French  attacM,  of  having  insulted  the 
danseuse.  D'Aubilly  protested  in  half-tipsy 
deprecation.  As  for  me,  decidedly  I  am 
losing  my  taste  for  such  amusements  as  these, 
and  during  the  high  words  which  ensued  I 
made  my  escape  unnoticed. 

The  night  was  bitterly  cold.  Under  its 
silent  influences  my  high  spirits  of  an  hour 
before  fell.  The  stories  we  had  told  and  lis 
tened  to  seemed  vapid  and  witless,  the  songs 
ribald  and  senseless,  and  the  rudeness  to  the 
woman  vulgar.  The  fumes  ot  the  wine  I  had 
drunk  had  made  a  fever  in  my  veins,  but  no 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  27 

exhilaration  in  my  brain.  I  thought  with  dis 
gust  of  the  childish  freaks  of  men,  and  the 
idiocies  and  indecencies  of  it  all.  I  must 
confess  I  am  not  usually  given  to  analysis, 
although  my  career  might  have  led  me  into 
overmuch  finessing.  I  generally  take  myself 
and  others  simply  enough;  for  unless  one 
does  this  there  can  be  no  action,  and  I  like 
action,  blood,  and  stir.  Simplicity  has  always 
seemed  to  me  one  idea  of  genius. 

Nathalie's  farewell  grasp  had  not  been 
simple  to  me.  It  was  alluring,  inasmuch  as 
nature  is  always  so,  and  it  had  been  grateful 
and  true,  even  in  the  mima;  yet  it  was  repel 
lent,  because  her  fingers  had  lingered  as  much 
as  if  to  tell  me,  "We  shah1  see,  we  shall 
meet!"  Frankly,  I  have  seen  all  I  want  of 
Madame  Nathalie;  she  could  only  lose  on 
a  closer  inspection.  At  any  rate,  I  believe  I 
behaved  like  a  gentleman. 

When  I  got  home  I  bathed  my  room  in  the 
cold  moonlit  waves  of  wind,  and  dismissed  all 
further  remembrance  of  my  evening.  Gustav 
came  by  and.  by  and  threw  my  cloak  about 


28  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIART 

me  as  I  sat  at  the  piano,  trying  to  find  the  key 
of  a  refrain  I  had  once  heard, — "  Perdus  tous 
deux  dans  la  steppe  infinie  !"  I  sang  it  over  and 
over,  first  in  this  key  and  then  in  that, — 
"  Perdus  tous  deux  dans  la  steppe  infinie." 

I  thought  of  poor  dead  Marie,  and  the 
empty  years  since, — empty  of  heart  ...  I 
forgot  that  she  had  been  weak,  and  had  re 
nounced  me,  only  to  remember  that  she  had 
once  been  tender.  But  somehow  the  refrain 
was  not  made  for  her:  I  could  not  imagine 
myself  happy  alone  on  the  steppe  with  Marie, 
and  an  unfelt,  unknown  premonition  stirred 
within  me.  Tall  and  tranquil,  this  new  vision 
beckoned  to  me  across  the  night;  and  here 
there  was  no  weakness,  but  only  strength  and 
power. 

Smoking  a  cigarette,  and  still  humming  to 
myself,  I  divested  myself  of  my  panoply  of 
war  and  sought  my  bed.  I  had  a  dream  of 
battle,  not  of  love :  I  lay  wrapped  in  my 
cloak  by  a  camp-fire  on  the  hill  which  over 
looked  Plevna.  I  was  talking  to  Stronkoff, 
of  the  long  golden  moustaches,  and  to 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  29 

Genghis.  Levitzky,  too,  was  there,  and  we 
all  spoke  in  whispers  of  Skobeleff,  who  was 
away  off  fighting  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hill.  "We  could  see  the  smoke  on  the  distant 
horizon.  It  was  stormy,  and  we  were  cold 
and  wet.  A  train  of  wagons  came  in  sight ; 
we  knew  it  was  the  Grand  Duke's  commis 
sariat.  "  I  am  only  an  on-looker  at  this  war," 
I  said,  and  when  their  big  brass  samovars 
were  brought  I  would  not  touch  their  hot  tea. 
Then  suddenly  a  man  from  among  the  others 
turned  upon  me  and  called  me  a  traitor.  I 
in  vain  explained  to  him  that  I  was  there 
through  his  Emperor's  courtesy,  and  that  I 
bore  his  people  no  ill  will. 

"You  see  that  smoke  rising  near  the  re 
doubt,"  he  said.  "  Skobeleff 's  position  will 
be  lost  through  your  treachery.  Our  dead  are 
many,  and  curse  you !" 

"  Skobeleff,"  I  cried,  "  is  the  worst  canaille 
that  ever  shouldered  musket  or  brandished 
sabre !" 

Then  they  all  fell  upon  me.  I  turned  to 
grapple  with  them  and  defend  myself,  and 

8* 


30  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

awoke  suddenly  to  find  that  I  was  wrestling 
with  Gustav. 

"The  Herr  Graff  has  the  nightmare,"  he 
said.  "  -ZVa,  gnadige  Herr;  these  supper-parties 
are  evil  things." 

My  only  satisfaction  was  that  I  had  ex 
pressed  my  opinion  of  their  general  before  I 
awoke.  It  would  have  been  indiscreet  after 
wards.  I  slept,  and  dreamed  no  more. 

January  19. — After  an  hour's  conference 
of  some  importance  with  a  Russian  officer 
upon  military  matters,  I  was  at  breakfast, 
with  my  mouth  full  of  compote,  when  the  door 
which  leads  from  my  study  to  my  modest 
dining-room  was  violently  thrown  open,  and, 
announcing  "  a  lady  desires  to  see  monsieur," 
August,  with  a  twirl  of  his  curly  moustache, 
ushered  in  ...  a  woman.  I  had  no  time  to 
rebuke  him  angrily  at  this  unlooked-for  inva 
sion,  when  Madame  Nathalie  swept  into  my 
presence.  She  threw  herself  breathlessly  into 
a  chair,  while  I  wiped  my  lips  with  the  napkin 
I  still  flourished  in  my  hand. 

"  Have  you  heard,"  she  cried,  clasping  her 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  31 

hands  together  dramatically, — "  have  you  heard 
there  will  be  a  duel  ?" 

I  shook  my  head,  and  she  went  on, — 

"  It  is  all  the  fault  of  that  foolish  boy.  He 
has  pursued  me  for  many  weeks ;  but  even  if 
he  had  not  insulted  me,  as  he  did  last  night, 
I  can  confide  to  you  that  there  was  no  hope 
for  him,  not  a  vestige!"  Here  she  smiled. 
"  The  only  man  who  would  have  dared  to 
marry  me  was  shot  by  a  Frenchman,  and  I 
made  a  vow  I  would  never  give  myself  to  one 
of  that  hateful  nation!  But,  after  all,  this 
one — he  is  only  un  enfant,  and  Strogonoff  is  a 
great  swordsman.  The  boy  is  dead  if  they 
fight  with  swords !" 

She  spoke  hurriedly  and  excitedly,  but  a 
genuine  anxiety  pierced  through  the  rapture 
of  the  comedienne,  whose  vanity  was  caressed, 
and  of  the  woman  of  business,  who  scented  a 
good  advertisement. 

Having  disposed  of  my  napkin  and  my  com 
pote,  I  asked  her,  standing  up  against  the  man 
tel-piece,  in  what  way  I  might  serve  her, — if 
perhaps  she  would  honor  me  by  sharing  my 


32  A   DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

repast  that  we  might  talk  over  the  affair  more 
at  leisure  ? 

She  freed  herself  with  a  rapid  gesture  from 
her  encumbering  furs,  and,  tossing  off  the 
little  sealskin  cap  which  rested  on  her  short 
black  hair,  she  seated  herself  opposite  me 
at  the  table,  drawing  off  her  long  tan  gloves. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  eat  ?"  she  asked, 
looking  at  me  with  her  big  eyes,  through 
their  thick  lashes.  "  How  nicely  arranged 
you  are,  and  how  pleasantly  for  a  chat !  Seri 
ously,  mon  cher,  you  must  stop  all  this." 

Considering  that  we  were  to  talk  over  an 
affair  of  life  or  death,  I  could  not,  in  paren 
thesis,  but  admire  the  excellent  appetite  and 
astonishing  rapidity  with  which  my  fair  vis 
itor,  as  she  talked,  disposed  of  pickled  salmon, 
omelet  aux  truffles,  mushrooms  on  toast,  and 
mutton  cutlets,  with  two  bumpers  of  beer,  a 
glass  of  Yodka,  coffee,  and  a  chasse. 

"I  came,"  she  said,  showing  her  white, 
regular,  cruel  little  teeth,  over  which  her  thin 
lips  never  entirely  close,  "  because  you  are  a 
man  of  the  world  and,  as  I  told  you  last  night, 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  33 

a  grand  seigneur.  No  Frenchman  would  ever 
have  behaved  as  you  did  last  evening." 

"I  am  so  surprised,  madame,  to  hear  you 
speak  disparagingly  of  a  great  people,  which 
I  believed  to  be  your  own.  Are  you  not  a 
Parisian  ?" 

"I  never  could  discover,"  she  replied,  evi 
dently  pleased,  "  to  what  nation  I  did  belong, 
and  it  has  its  advantages.  I  can  faire  de  la 
politique,  with  impartiality.  Mamma  said  she 
was  a  ...  Styrian,  and  about  papa,"  she  added, 
laughing,  "  there  always  seemed  to  be  some 
doubt  A  propos  of  the  French  .  .  .  last 
night,  do  you  know,  I  began  to  adore  their 
enemies." 

I  bowed,  but  these  unsought  confessions 
were  becoming  intensely  disagreeable  to  me. 
Madame  Nathalie,  I  had  to  admit  to  myself, 
looked  far  more  attractive -in  her  simple  dark 
cloth  costume,  which  fitted  to  perfection,  and 
threw  out  into  bold  relief,  while  somewhat 
subduing,  the  magnificent  proportions  of  her 
bust  and  hips,  than  she  had  in  her  tulle  and 
tinsel.  She  had  used  cosmetics  very  sparingly 


34  A.  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

this  morning,  and  in  all  her  poses  there  was 
the  strength  of  the -gymnast  in  repose. 

I  realized  that  these  splendid  feminine 
charms,  to  which  were  added  the  gestures 
and  facial  expressions  of  a  debased  gamin, 
might  have  for  many  men  great  piquancy. 

She  leaned  her  face  upon  her  hands,  which 
were  boneless  and  soft,  the  hands  of  the 
woman  of  pleasure.  She  looked  across  the 
table  at  me. 

"  Yes,  they  say  the  women  of  the  world 
like  to  be  treated  CL  la  Ughe,  but  we  ...  art 
ists" — she  hesitated  a  moment  to  find  a  correct 
word — "we  .  .  .  artists  appreciate  a  distin 
guished  man  who  understands  us  and  treats 
us  with  respect." 

"  And  about  this  duel  ?"  I  said,  impatiently, 
pretending  not  to  notice  her  challenging 
glances.  There  was  something  magnetic  to 
me  in  the  woman's  regard ;  but  the  pole  of 
repulsion  was  there.  I  was  a  man,  and  her 
evident  admiration  of  my  humble  person  stirred 
within  me  a  certain  brutal  satisfaction,  but  I 
wished  at  all  hazards  to  be  rid  of  her,  and  of 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  33 

a  folly  which  might  prove  troublesome  arid 
even  contagious,  like  some  undesirable  malady. 

"  Ah,  yes ! — the  duel !  I  was  saying — what 
was  I  saying  ?"  and  she  laughed.  I  can  im 
agine  nothing  less  pleasant  than  Nathalie's 
laughter. 

"  You  were  saying,"  I  said,  sternly,  "  that 
young  d'Aubilly  was  a  doomed  man  if  it  took 
place,  and  that  there  had  better  be  no  delay. 
I  will  go  at  once  to  his  ambassador's  and  see 
what  can  be  done  to  stop  the  nonsense.  The 
boy  was  tipsy,  and  you  surely  cannot  wish 
him  punished.  And  then,"  I  added,  more 
gallantly,  "it  was,  after  all,  your  own  fault. 
He  is  not  the  first  whose  blood  you  have 
fired."  I  rose  and  began  to  buckle  on  my 
sword. 

"  Would  you  leave  me  like  this  ?"  she  said, 
plaintively.  "  Don't  you  ask  me  to  ...  come 
again?  How  strong  you  are,  and  robust!" 
she  added,  watching  my  every  movement,  as 
if  fascinated. 

"I  am  very  strong,  madame,"  I  replied, 
"but  there  are  some  tests  to  which  I  should 


36  A  DIPLOMAT'S   DIARY 

not  dare  to  put  myself."  And  getting  my 
casquette  down  from  its  peg,  I  almost  pushed 
past  her  to  the  door. 

I  could  see  she  was  intensely  piqued.  She 
was  putting  on  her  hat  half-way  on  the  stairs. 

"I  will  stay  longer  next  time,"  she  cried 
over  her  shoulder  at  me  defiantly,  with  a 
saucy  shake  of  her  black  mane. 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  her,  I  went 
back,  stepped  into  my  bedroom,  and  buried 
my  face  in  a  great  basin  full  of  fresh  cold 
water.  I  then  washed  my  hands  and  polished 
my  nails  elaborately,  poured  out  a  glass  of 
Tsarskoe  Selo  water  from  its  brown  cruche, 
and  quaffed  it  with  avidity.  She  had  left  a 
queer  smell  of  chypre  behind  her,  which  I 
detested. 

"  Go  out,  August,"  I  called,  "  and  get  some 
flowers  for  the  vases  in  my  study,  and  let  them 
be  such  as  have  a  strong  perfume." 

August  grinned.  He  evidently  thought  me 
a  lucky  fellow  for  a  man  of  my  years.  In  the 
street  I  met  Berg,  who  told  me  the  challenge 
had  been  exchanged,  but  the  French  ambassa- 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  37 

dor  had  stepped. in,  and  an  apology  would  be 
made.  . 

"  Fancy,"  he  said,  "  fighting  for  that  canaille, 
but  by  Gad,  she  is  a  superb  creature  au  phy 
sique.  Why,  Strogonoff  is  mad  after  her. 
You  ought  to  cultivate  her,  if  you  want  to 
find  out  things;  they  say  she  knows  no  end 
of  state  secrets." 

"  I  will  choose  some  less-expensive  methods 
of  information,"  I  said,  laughing,  while  we 
clanked  along  arm  in  arm,  exchanging  salutes 
with  many  acquaintances".  "  Avoid  women 
scrapes,"  was  my  last  bit  of  home  advice. 

"Tiens!  did  they  think  it  necessary?  I 
thought  you  were  called  the  impregnable,'* 
chuckled  Berg.  "  That  is  the  name  with  which 
they  dub  you  here.  Your  reputation  has 
heralded  you." 

I  changed  the  subject.  Berg  grows  familiar. 
"We  hailed  a  passing  $ani,  and  drove  off  furi 
ously,  crossing  the  Fontanka  Canal,  with  its 
great  granite  walls.  All  the  world  was  in  the 
street.  The  Russian  isvoztchik  is  certainly  very 
picturesque,  with  his  long  blue  coat,  wide 
4 


38  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

r 

girth,  and  low-crowned  hat,  which  looks  like 
those  queer  velvet  pin-cushions  one  sees  at 
charitable  fairs. 

We  passed  the  American  minister's  sleigh 
with  its  black  Orloff  trotters,  blue  cloth  reins, 
fat  coachman,  bearskins,  and  chasseur, — quite 
a  good  equipage.  There  was  a  lady  with  the 
Poslonniek,  middle-aged,  probably  his  wife. 
Now  I  remember  these  people  receive  to 
morrow,  and  I  must  pay  my  respects. 

Visits  of  ceremony  to  uninteresting  people 
are  the  thorn  of  my  profession.  I  am  told 
these  Americans  are  very  respectable,  correct, 
and  well-bred  people.  I  take  little  interest, 
however,  in  the  nation  they  represent ;  their 
traditions  are  nil,  and  their  institutions  intensely 
antipathetic  to  me.  They  are  a  remarkable 
people,  but  they  have  no  sympathy.  I  have 
never  had  any  curiosity  to  see  them  at  close 
quarters,  and  shall  probably  avoid  visiting 
them  in  their  own  country.  However,  I  will 
go  into  their  legation  for  fifteen  minutes  to 
morrow.  Civility  costs  little.  I  am  wrong : 
civilities  seem  to  cost  a  good  deal  sometimes. 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  39 

My  own  to  Madame  Nathalie,  for  instance,  if 
she  be  true  to  her  sex,  will  bear  fruit,  at  any 
rate. 

I  shall  not  be  the  mere  caprice  of  a  depraved 
woman,  for  now  I  have  touched  her  imagina 
tion.  If  I  know  anything  of  her  captious  sex, 
Madame  Nathalie  is  thinking  of  me  at  this 
very  moment,  and  is  plotting  my  downfall. 
Ha,  ha,  ha !  Her  lovers,  who  will  shower  her 
to-night  with  jewels  and  with  flowers,  at  her 
benefit,  will  be,  with  their  gifts,  as  dross  in  her 
eyes.  Make  place  for  me,  messieurs,  at  least 
for  a  few  hours !  I  am  the  unattainable.  Ah ! 
if  men  only  knew — and  women  too ! 

I  stop  at  some  of  the  brilliantly-lighted 
French  jewelry  shops  on  the  Nevsky  and  buy 
a  few  trinkets  to  send  home.  I  choose  a 
quaint  jewelled  book-mark  for  the  Princesse. 
She  cannot  wear  it,  and  it  is  much  better. 
Only  a  woman  I  love  shall  ever  wear  aught 
that  I  have  given  to  her !  I  have  promised 
to  be  a  friend  to  that  lonely  girl,  and  if  thai 
devil,  Harnay,  does  not  again  work  on  her 
exalt&  temperament  by  drawing  exaggerated 


40  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

pictures  of  my  supposed  concealed  attachment, 
I  will  be  the  best  friend  and  support  she  ever 
has  had.  "With  a  frivolous,  unkind  father, 
utterly  regardless  of  her,  and  with  no  mother 
or  sister  upon  whom  she  can  lean,  she  is  indeed 
to  be  pitied. 

All  that  episode  is  full  of  vexation.  To 
think  that  a  few  dances  at  the  old  schloss,  a 
few  games,  a  little  kindness,  should  have  been 
so  misinterpreted !  I  am  one  of  the  least  vain 
of  men,  yet  here ! 

January  20. — I  had  a  long  seance  with 
Isfarishkine  this  morning.  Like  Caprara,  he 
kept  on  his  glasses,  that  I  might  not  see  his 
eyes.  As  ever,  he  was  supple  and  eluding,— 
but  all  serious  matters  in  connection  with  my 
mission  I  note  not  here. 

My  morning  has  been  entirely  eclipsed,  I 
admit,  and  overshadowed  by  my  afternoon. 
The  morning  was  earnest,  arduous,  difficult. 
The  afternoon  has  left  with  me  a  sense  of 
pleasure,  and  an  aroma  delicate  and  subtile, 
like  the  taste  of  some  rare  wines.  I  smile  in 
writing  it  down.  It  all  came  from  an  hour  I 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  41 

passed  with  the  Americans.  Having  left  cards 
on  one  or  two  ladies,  who  were  not  at  home,  I 
had  myself  carried  to  81  Sergievskaya.  The 
United  States  minister,  like  most  of  his  com 
patriots,  is  rich,  and  lives  well.  They  have  hired 
Count  de  Ylassow's  little  palace,  which  they 
have  furnished  and  arranged  with  considerable 
elegance.  When  ushered  in  I  found  Madame 
North  surrounded  by  a  number  of  callers. 
She  was  doing  the  honors  of  her  salon  with 
affability  and  simplicity.  After  engaging  her 
in  conversation  for  a  few  moments,  I  wandered 
across  the  room  to  the  tea-table,  where  I  soon 
found  myself  wedged  in  behind  the  samovar, 
between  Lady  Xavier  and  her  daughter. 

The  latter  was  attired  in  a  green  gown,  with 
some  red  about  it  here  and  there,  which  ex 
actly  matched  her  hair  and  eyebrows,  and  of 
which  the  effect  was  painful.  The  tea-table 
stands  under  some  large  palms  at  one  end  of 
the  drawing-room,  and  about  it  the  younger 
people  seem  to  cluster,  while  Madame  North 
detains  the  older  ones  nearer  the  door,  where 

she  receives.     The  room  is  cheery  and  home- 

4*      , 


42  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

like,  with  deep  low  lounges,  a  few  fine  pictures, 
an  encombrement  of  bric-a-brac  disposed  on 
their  itag&res  and  tables,  shaded  lamps,  and 
a  bright  wood  fire.  The  heated  walls  of  Rus 
sian  houses  make  them  intolerably  warm. 
Buttoned  closely  up  in  our  uniforms,  how  we 
poor  officers  do  suffer!  These  rooms  were 
cooler  than  is  usual,  and  their  atmosphere  was 
extremely  agreeable. 

Well,  as  I  say,  I  was  exchanging  inanities 
with  Miss  Xavier,  who  is  not  my  affinity,  and 
whose  hair  was  redder  and  whose  cheeks  were 
larger  than  usual,  and  was  meditating  a  speedy 
escape,  when  there  was  a  slight  stir  at  the  door. 
At  the  same  moment  Lady  Xavier  tapped  me 
on  the  shoulder  with  her  long  gold  eye-glass. 

"Who  is  the  distinguished-looking  woman 
in  violet  velvet  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  sharp  whisper. 

Detaching  herself  from  the  group  with  whom 
she  had  entered,  and  distinct  from  them  all 
through  some  intangible  unresemblance,  the 
person  in  question  came  forward,  with  a  slightly 
trainant  movement,  towards  the  table  where  we 
sat.  Seeing  that  we  were  all  unknown  to  her, 


A   DIPLOMATS  DIARY  43 

and  that  we  were  at  the  same  time  watching 
her  she  half  stopped,  irresolute  for  a*noment, 
and  looked  back  a  little  appealingly  at  the  Lady 
of  the  house.  Mrs.  North  came  out  quickly 
from  among  her  friends,  and,  putting  one  arm 
lightly  about  the  younger  woman's  figure,  pro 
pelled  her  gently  in  our  direction.  I  rose. 

"Lady  Xavier,  let  me  present  to  you  my 
niece.  My  niece — Miss  Xavier.  Monsieur, 
may  I  present  you  to  my  niece  ?" 

The  name  was  mentioned  twice,  but  these 
foreign  syllables  stick  in  the  teeth  of  their 
utterer,  and  I  am  not  quick  at  unravelling 
their  mysteries.  I  found  myself  standing 
rather  awkwardly  in  front  of  the  "  distin 
guished  lady  in  violet  velvet." 

She  bowed  to  me  vaguely,  not  looking  at 
me  particularly,  and  sank  into  an  arm-chair 
close  to  Lady  Xavier's  elbow. 

"  I  am  tired,"  she  said. 

"Have  you  been  sight-seeing,  my  dear?" 
asked  Lady  Xavier,  in  that  patronizing  tone 
in  which  older  important  women  address 
young  insignificant  ones.  I  could  see  she 


44  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

was  thoroughly  "  taking  in"  the  elegant  figure 
of  the  new  arrival.  I  was  already  wondering 
how  many  days  it  would  take  for  her  persist 
ent  malevolence  to  awaken  and  sling  its  en 
venomed  arrows  at  this  new  and  inviting  tar 
get  I  had  known  Lady  Xavier  many  years, 
and  had  followed  her  through  various  vicissi 
tudes  of  far  less  splendid  days.  I  knew  her 
foibles. 

"  Yes,  a  little.  I  did  some  of  the  churches. 
My  uncle  took  me  out." 

"  You  have  only  just  arrived-?"  asked  Gladys 
Javier. 

Let  me  see.  Yes,  it  is  not  a  week  yet  It 
seems  years ;"  and  she  sighed. 

""Why,  don't  you  like  Petersburg?"  said 
Miss  Xavier,  with  round  eyes. 

"My  daughter  enjoys  every  minute  here; 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  fun  for  the  younger 
people,"  said  the  mother. 

"  After  the  court  balls  commence,  and  you 
have  been  presented,  you  will  enjoy  yourself 
immensely.  You  can  skate  at  the  Tauride, 
and  all  that,"  said  Gladys. 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIAR7  45 

"  Oh,  balls  ?  I  have  been  to  so  many  balls," 
said  the  violet  lady,  evidently  not  impressed. 

By  the  way,  it  was  a  charming  toilet.  She 
had  left  her  wraps  in  the  hall,  and  wore 
a  closely-fitting  pansy-colored  gown,  which 
draped  her  shapely  slenderness  to  perfection. 
I  don't  know  much  about  the  detail  of  a 
woman's  costume,  but  this  was  certainly  very 
harmonious.  It  fell  in  a  straight  fine  line  to 
her  feet,  and  there  was  gleaming  black  jet 
about  it.  On  her  head  she  wore  a  very  be 
coming  toque  of  the  same  sombre  hues.  She 
had  a  thin  white  veil  tightly  drawn  across 
her  face,  but  it  did  not  reach  her  mouth.  It 
was  the  flower-like  mouth  of  a  girl  of  twenty. 
The  veiled  eyes  were  wiser. 

She  leaned  far  back  in  th«  low  causeuse, 
but  there  was  a  suspicion  of  daring  in  her 
abandon.  Lavater  infers  character  from  gait 
and  attitude :  under  this  woman's  tranquillity 
there  evidently  lurked  a  plenitude  of  force 
and  of  energy.  The  wild  creatures  of  the 
woods  and  of  the  deserts  have  this  repose 
when  at  rest. 


46  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

As  she  had  not  deigned  to  notice  me,  I  had 
plenty  of  leisure  for  surmises.  Lady  Xavier 
studied  her  too.  I  fancied  she  was  already 
beginning  to  disapprove. 

Old  Prince  Bodisko  was  talking  about 
Madame  Skobeleff  mire  to  some  young  ladies 
near  the  tea-table.  He  talked  loudly,  and  all 
turned  to  listen. 

"  I  knew  her,"  he  said,  "  a  handsome,  clever 
woman.  She  came  to  Petersburg  with  her 
pretty  daughters,  full  of  projects,  of  ambitions ; 
but  we  are  not  amiable  here,  and  they  were 
not  received.  The  Countess  X.,  who  made  the 
sunshine  and  the  rain  for  us  then,  was  giving 
a  ball.  She  was  asked  an  invitation  for  the 
Skobeleff  ladies.  *  What !  invite  that  canaille 
to  my  house?'  she  asked.  The  cruel  reply 
was  brought  to  Madame  S.  *  Did  she  say  that  ?' 
asked  the  mother.  f  Her  son  shall  marry  my 
daughter !'  And,"  added  the  prince,  "  he  did." 

"  And  he  has  paid  well  since  for  his  mother's 
affront  to  his  mother-in-law,"  said  a  young 
woman,  amid  quickly-quelled  laughter. 

The  lady  in  violet  had  listened  intently  to 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  4? 

Bodisko's  anecdote,  and  I  noticed  that  a  slight 
flush  rose  in  her  cheeks,  and  into  her  eyes  a 
look  of  triumph. 

"  That  was  well  done,"  laughed  the  others. 

"My  dear,  let  me  present  you  to  the 
Countess  Barythine,"  said  Mrs.  North,  ad 
dressing  her  niece. 

The  old  Countess,  such  a  well-known  figure 
in  St.  Petersburg  society  that  description  is 
superfluous,  glided  forward  with  extended 
fingers.  She  wore  her  richest  sables  and  her 
suavest  manners. 

"  Charmed,"  she  said,  "  to  make  your  ac 
quaintance ;"  and,  after  a  few  commonplaces, 
"  When  you  get  bored  in  the  gay  whirl,"  she 
said,  "you  can  come  and  sit  with  me  now  and 
then.  I  love  young  people.  I  will  present 
you  to  my  niece  Wasia.  "Wasia  is  very  pretty 
and  &  la  mode.  You  will  see  her  at  court. 
She  will  wear  a  lovely  wreath  of  white  chry 
santhemums  with  one  of  the  big  Oblensky 
diamonds  in  the  centre  of  each.  They  were 
her  mother's.  It  is  a  great  risk,  but  young 
women  nowadays  don't  value  heirlooms.  She 


48  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

has  just  shown  me  the  wreath.  I  shall  not  go 
to  the  ball :  I  have  nothing  to  wear ;  I  am 
greatly  impoverished.  The  expenditure  for 
my  good  husband's  mausoleum,  with  the  de 
pression  of  the  ruble,  has  swallowed  up  half 
of  my  fortune.  I  only  hope  his  family  appre 
ciate  what  I  have  done  for  his  memory. 
Since  his  death  I  have  lived  in  retirement.  I 
am  an  old  bachelor.  I  detest  the  world.  I 
sit  at  home,  quietly,  in  the  evenings,  and  read, 
read,  until  my  poor  eyes  give  out.  I  have  my 
dog,  my  cigarette,  my  'Figaro!'  I  cannot 
live  without  my  '  Figaro.'  It  is  worth  all  our 
Russian  gazettes  put  together.  They  are  only 
made  to  put  us  off  the  track,  as  the  people 
say  here."  She  winked  and  laughed  softly, 
as  if  at  some  amusing  reminiscence.  "And 
so  you  too  are  from  America?  His  Excel 
lency's  niece, — cousin,  did  you  say?  Then 
you  must  have  known  a  great  American,  one 
I  have  long  desired  to  meet.  You  are  prob 
ably  intimately  acquainted  with  Dom  Pedro?" 
"  No,"  said  the  lady  in  violet,  "  I  have  not 
that  honor." 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  49 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure !  How  dull  and  stupid 
you  must  think  me.  You  are  from  the  north 
of  America,  from  New  York,  I  believe.  I 
now  recollect  that  you  are  not  au  mieux  with 
the  Brazilians ;  that  you  had  that  terrible  and 
bloody  war,  and  beat  them  badly  too.  I  had 
forgotten.  But,  then,"  she  added,  politely, 
"it  is  so  long  ago  you  are  too  young  to 
remember  these  things.  I  thought  by  this 
time  all  would  be  bridged  over,  but  South 
erners  are  always  revengeful.  And  nature 
herself  divides  you  from  your  Southern 
States.  Look  at  your  Isthmus  of  Panama !" 

"  You,  monsieur,"  said  the  lady  addressed, 
with  quiet  gravity,  turning  for  the  first  time 
of  her  own  accord  and  addressing  me, 
"have  probably  had  even  greater  facilities 
than  madame  to  study  our  conflicts,  since  I 
believe  you  are  a  soldier  as  well  as  a  diplomat. 
Do  you  not  wonder  at  the  continued  animosity 
of  the  Brazilians  ?" 

The  Countess  looked  unconsciously  from 
one  to  the  other,  awaiting  my  answer.  Our 
eyes  had  met  and  mingled  for  a  moment  in 
c  d  6 


50  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

the  freemasonry  of  a  mutual  amusement. 
My  own  may  have  been  too  bold,  for  she 
blushed. 

"I  gave  lectures  to  my  young  officers  on 
your  war,  madame.  Both  sides  fought 
well." 

"You  are  encouraging,"  she  replied,  a  little 
sarcastically  I  thought,  and  turned  to  have  a 
foreign  dignitary  presented  to  her. 

I  was  struck  with  her  perfect  composure, 
and  also  with  her  absolute  indifference  to 
myself.  It  piqued  me  into  a  desire  to  con 
tinue  the  conversation.  - 

"  Why  did  you  come  to  Eussia,  madame  ?" 
I  ventured  to  say  to  her  later,  handing  her  a 
cup  of  tea  at  her  own  request. 

"  To  amuse  myself." 

"  And  are  you  amused  ?" 

"No." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  exacting  ?" 

"Perhaps!  I  think  myself  very  easily 
pleased." 

"And  you  leave  America  like  that?  No 
duties  .  .  .  Nothing  to  detain  you  ?" 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIAR7  5J 

"  I  never  do  my  duty." 

"  Oli,  madame !' 

"And  you?" 

"  I  try  to  do  mine." 

"  Why  will  you  not  undertake  a  new  devoir, 
then  ?"  and  she  looked  at  me  aslant  her  little 
voilette,  with  a  queer  searching  expression 
which  held  my  own. 

"  And  that  is  ?" 

"  To  help  amuse  me.  I  think  you  are  not 
stupid.  Nearly  every  one  is  stupid." 

"  How  can  you  tell  I  am  not  stupid  ?  You 
have  not  deigned  to  look  at  me  once.  I  am 
lamentably  dull." 

"Really?" 

"Yes;  for  although  I  have  not  taken  my 
eyes  from  off  your  face  since  you  entered,  I  do 
not  know  your  name,  or  even  whether  I  am 
addressing  a  married  lady  or  a  demoiselle." 

"  Ah !     It  makes  no  difference." 

"Yes  it  does." 

"  Which  do  you  think  ?" 

"  I  think  you  are  probably  married." 

"Why?" 


52  A  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

"Because  you  have  such  diabolical  aplomb." 

"  And  you  think  marriage  leads  to  diaboli 
cal  denouements  ?" 

"I  know  nothing  about  marriage,  except 
what  I  hear  from  others,  madame.  I  confess 
it  is  not  encouraging." 

"  You  are  not  married  ?" 

"  Do  I  look  like  a  married  person  ?" 

"  I  have  not  examined  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  have.  You  said  I  did  not 
look  stupid." 

"  One  must  say  something." 

"  Thank  you." 

Mrs.  North  now  moved  again  from  the  door, 
and  her  niece  rose. 

"  I  am  really  fatigued,  ma  tante.  I  shall  ask 
you  to  excuse  me  and  let  me  go  and  rest,"  and 
with  a  slight  inclination  of  her  head  in  my 
direction  she  swept  from  the  room,  dragging 
her  violet  skirts  with  a  swish  over  the  parquet 
floor. 

"  My  niece  has  but  lately  arrived  in  Peters 
burg,"  said  my  hostess,  apologetically.  "  She 
is  mad,  poor  child,  about  art,  and  all  these 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  53 

iiew  sights.  She  haa  been  at  the  galleries 
all  day,  and  she  is  still  tired  from  her  long 
journey." 

I  bowed.  "We  diplomats,  madame,  are 
proverbially  curious.  Above  all,  we  must  know 
and  remember  names.  May  I  ask  you  to  tell 
me  very  distinctly  the  lady's  name  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Acton,  Mrs.  Lucien  Acton." 

"And  is  Monsieur  Acton  with  you  too?" 
/  asked,  "  and  shall  I  make  his  acquaintance  ?" 

"  My  niece  is  a  widow."  Mrs.  North  sighed, 
— the  perfunctory  sigh  with  which  the  virtuous 
matron  feels  called  upon  to  announce  another's 
misfortune. 

"  Madame,  I  salute  you,"  I  said,  shrinking 
somehow  incomprehensibly  from  any  further 
revelations,  and  taking  my  leave.  Mr.  North 
tried  to  detain  me  when  I  reached  the  hall. 
He  is  an  agreeable  man,  but  I  made  my  es 
cape,  and,  jumping  into  my  sleigh,  went  on  to 
the  Kossecki's.  I  found  quite  a  crowd  there. 
It  was  embetant  in  the  extreme. 

Certainly  Mr.  and  Mrs.  North  seem  excellent 
people.     I  must  cultivate  them. 
6* 


54  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

January  22. — The  expressions  of  the  features, 
people  say,  of  the  eyes  and  mouth,  denote  a 
person's  soul,  yet  one  easily  learns  to  conceal 
natural  emotions  under  the  facial  mask.  Fhere 
are  signs  more  unguarded,  and  hence  more 
certain.  A  movement  of  the  hips  in  walking, 
the  position  of  an  arm  and  of  a  hand  are  a 
revelation.  Temperament  is  made  clear  to 
me  often  in  a  dtmarfhe.  Charm,  the  gewisses 
etwas,  has  always  seemed  to  me  a  spring  from  a 
heart  full  of  passion,  whether  overflowing  or 
concentrated  and  stifled.  In  either  case,  but 
particularly  in  the  latter,  it  cannot  he  con 
cealed;  it  breathes  from  the  body,  from  the 
very  garments. 

Dark  eyes  are  tell-tale.  There  is  a  long, 
half-shut,  light  eye  which  never  reveals  its 
secrets.  The  movements  of  graceful  limbs 
betray  far  more.  I  think  Mrs.  Lucien  Acton 
has  such  eyes.  What  an  odd  young  woman ! 

It  is  a  praznik  here  to-day.  It  is  a  praznik 
here  every  other  day.  Pavil  has  gone  out  and 
dragged  most  of  the  moujiks  at  his  heels; 
that  scamp,  August,  too,  has  managed  to 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  55 

escape,  and  Gustav,  forced  to  double  duty,  is 
trembling  with  suppressed  fury. 

I  am  obliged  to  attend  the  baptism  of  his 
Imperial  Highness  the  little  Grand  Duke  in 
the  chapel  of  the  Winter  Palace.  There  is  a 
great  crowd  in  the  streets.  The  baby  drives 
in  a  coach  drawn  by  six  pure  white  horses, 
and  behind  comes  the  Grand  Chamberlain. 
All  about  the  royal  carriage  are  mounted 
Cossacks.  It  is  a  pretty  sight.  Every  one 
is  in  gala  attire,  and  the  court  ladies  wear  the 
kakochnik. 

The  child  is  brought  forward  on  a  satin 
pillow  embroidered  in  gold,  by  the  Princess 
Nikitenko,  with  his  godfathers  following.  The 
Imperial  boy-choir  sings  in  sweet  unison,  while 
the  Pop  immerses  the  child.  The  Czar  then 
walks  three  times  about  the  altar  with  his 
baby  in  his  arms,  and  the  whole  affair  breaks 
up  with  a  general  kissing ;  during  which  I  felt 
very  much  left  out  in  the  cold,  for  nobody 
offered  to  kiss  me. 

Then  the  great  breakfast  at  the  palace,  with 
its  elaborate  menu,  where  everybody's  health 


66  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

was  drunk,  and  every  one  seemed  in  good 
humor. 

The  pretty,  heedless  baby  is  already  honor 
ary  colonel  of  half  a  dozen  regiments.  Good 
luck  to  him,  poor  little  mortal!  He  needs 
kind  thoughts  and  prayers,  for  what  vicissi 
tudes  may  he  not  encounter ! 

January  23. — Five  hundred  men  and  women, 
the  latter  splendid  in  their  diamonds,  the  for 
mer  in  their  uniforms  and  decorations,  the 
cream  of  Petersburg  society,  gathered  at  the 
"Winter  Palace  under  the  radiance  of  a  hundred 
chandeliers.  "Within  its  gilded  railing  the  or 
chestra  regales  us  with  sweet  strains.  In  the 
rotunda  and  along  the  galerie  militaire,  a  buffet 
where  are  served  champagne  frappS,  fruits,  ices, 
bonbons,  and  tea  from  smoking  samovars,  all 
served  in  Georgian  silver,  or  upon  massive 
gold  plate. 

Card-tables  are  disposed  in  the  Arab  Room. 
At  ten  the  royalties  arrive.  The  Emperor 
wears  his  uniform  of  the  Cossack  Guards,  and 
the  hereditary  Grand  Duke  that  of  the  Im 
perial  Guard  of  Hussars.  The  Empress  and 


A  DIPLOMATS  DIARY  57 

her  ladies  of  the  Imperial  family  and  house 
hold  vie  with  each  other  in  the  magnificence 
of  their  toilets.  They  look  like  a  flock  of 
tropical  birds. 

Supper  is  served  at  one  in  the  great  ban- 
queting-halls  of  the  Nicholas  and  Jordanoff- 
skaia,  changed  as  by  magic  into  delicious 
gardens  of  rare  palms  and  exotic  flowers. 
The  Emperor,  attended  by  Prince  D.,  steps 
out  among  the  tables  to  see  that  his  guests  are 
well  served,  while  the  Empress  presides  at  her 
table  surrounded  by  the  Grand  Duchesses, 
the  ambassadors,  and  her  ladies  of  honor. 

A  brilliant  ball  indeed,  with  many  beautiful 
women,  many  distinguished  men,  light,  jewels, 
music,  laughter,  magical  effects,  and  supreme 
elegance.  The  Empress,  ever  affable  and 
courteous,  with  her  own  beauty  at  its  very 
best.  So  much  for  the  frame.  Now  for  the 
picture,  and  my  own  personal  experiences. 
While  I  stood  with  a  party  of  aides  and  cour 
tiers  awaiting  the  entrance  of  their  Majesties, 
my  eyes  became  fastened  upon  a  pair  of 
shoulders  which  rose  out  of  their  soft  laces 


58  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

just  in  front  of  me,  amid  the  crowd  of  ladies, 
wives  and  daughters  of  dignitaries,  who  were 
standing  in  readiness  to  make  their  courtesies 
to  the  approaching  royalties. 

I  had  never  seen  these  shoulders,  yet  I  felt 
a  certain  proprietorship  in  them.  They  seemed 
not  strange  to  ine,  and  their  contemplation 
gave  me  the  intimate  delight  which  we  feel 
in  finding  again,  for  an  instant,  some  lost 
dream  of  youth  or  of  romance.  They  were 
unencumbered  by  ornament  of  any  sort,  and 
this  in  a  land  of  jewels  where  the  women's 
heads  and  throats  are  fairly  bowed  under  their 
weight  of  gems  seemed  to  give  an  added 
charm  and  strength  to  their  outline.  I  can 
fancy  nothing  more  poetic  than  their  slope, 
nothing  more  pure  than  the  line  of  the  neck 
from  the  tiny  pink  ear  to  the  arm.  It  filled 
my  sculptor's  heart  with  delight  It  is  many 
years  since  I  threw  away  my  scalpel,  that  dear 
pastime  of  my  boyish  holidays,  but  the  love 
of  form  is  strong  in  me,  and  I  found  it  here 
in  its  finest  development. 

The  head,  too,  was  haughtily  held,  with  its 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  59 

mignonne  nuque  and  hair  tossed  up  in  a  ray 
of  light  to  the  crown.  The  front  locks  are 
darker.  I  drew  closer  to  drink  in  the  per 
fume  of  beauty  which  seemed  to  radiate  from 
the  polished  pink  skin,  for  the  complexion 
was  not  of  ivory,  but  marbled,  as  if  betoken 
ing  a  rich  and  generous  vitality. 

Did  my  breath  ruffle  her  sensitiveness  aa 
I  stood,  closely  buttoned  into  my  full-dress 
uniform,  my  twenty-seven  decorations  osten 
tatiously  placarded  upon  my  manly  breast, 
and  the  plume  of  my  casque  sweeping  the 
floor  close  to  her  feet?  At  any  rate,  Mrs. 
Acton  turned. 

"  Ah !"  she  said,  "  I  thought  it  was  you." 

"I  have  been  here  close  behind  you  for 
twenty  minutes  or  more." 

"  And,  pray,  how  were  you  occupied  ?" 

"  Contemplating  your  back,  and  conclu 
sively  persuaded  that  you  had  rested  to  some 
purpose." 

"  Why  ?" 

"Why?  Because  you  are  so  unspeakably 
fresh  and  radiant  to-night." 


60  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

"  Does  my  back  reveal  all  this  ?  How  very 
nice !  I  am  amused,  and  that  is  the  reason. 
Happiness  is  unbecoming!  It  makes  one 
gaunt  and  hollow-eyed,  like  all  the  emotions ; 
but  amusement,  pleasure,  that  is  a  woman's 
best  atmosphere.  It  agrees  with  my  health 
and  my  skin." 

A  disagreeable  thought  crossed  my  mind : 
I  wondered  what  experiences  Mrs.  Acton  had 
vaguely  alluded  to. 

"  I  have  never  known  happiness,"  I  replied, 
not  quite  truthfully  (and  yet  not  all  untruth 
fully  either,  for  how  pale  it  grows !),  "  and  I 
am  sick  of  ...  pleasure." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  what  you  say. 
You  have  tasted  happiness,  and  you  are  not 
eick  of  pleasure.  You  adore  pleasure;"  she 
emphasized  "  adore"  with  a  pretty  moue.  This 
made  me  laugh. 

"  You  have  to-night,"  she  said, "  the  smile 
of  a  young  tiger." 

"  If  it  is  young,  madame,  man-like  I  pass 
over  the  less  complimentary  comparison." 

"Why  uncomplimentary?    It  pleases  me. 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  Ql 

Your  smile  is  usually  kindly  and  indulgent. 
To-night  it  is  military  and  fierce.  You  arc 
on  parade.  I  admire  it,  your  epaulets,  and 
the  feather  in  your  hat." 

"  Take  care,  madame,  you  will  have  me 
assume  a  perpetual  grin,  and  if  I  read  you 
aright  you  will  be  the  first  to  find  it  odious, 
for  I  feel  sure  that  stereotyped  men  and  things 
weary  you,  and  that  you  quickly  drive  them 
away ;  then,  besides,  you  are  amusing  yourself 
now  immensely  at  my  expense." 

"  Oh,  no,  when  men  grow  tiresome  I  do  not 
drive  them  away !  I  simply  get  up  and  leave 
them  to  themselves." 

"  I  was  very  tiresome,  then,  the  other  day  at 
the  legation  ?" 

"  Very." 

I  felt  as  piqued  as  an  awkward  school-boy. 
She  noticed  my  gloomy  visage,  and  made 
instant  amends  for  her  raillery  by  looking  up 
at  me  with  a  lovely  smile. 

"Here,"  she  said,  "is  just  the  type  you 
admire,  I  am  certain.  This  tall  woman  enter 
ing  on  this  officer's  arm :  large  black  eyes,  ar 

6 


62  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

eagle's  nose,  a  high  forehead,  and  a — mous 
tache!" 

"Effectively  Madame  Lowenstein  is  very 
handsome.  That  gentleman  is  her  husband." 

"  They  seem  to  have  a  great  deal  to  say  to 
each  other.  She  looks  annoyed  and  yet 
deprecating." 

"Of  course;  she  speaks  to  him  with  that 
mixture  of  irritability  and  compunction  to 
which  women  treat  the  men  they  habitually 
deceive.  Here  is  her  lover.  Now  watch  their 
little  manoeuvres." 

"Ah,  monsieur,  you  make  me  afraid  of 
you!" 

"I  wish  that  I  could.  So  you  do  not 
admire  feminine  moustaches  ?" 

"  Do  you  ?" 

"  Immensely.  A  little  down  on  a  red  upper 
lip  is  not  without  allurement" 

"  In  America  it  would  be  called  a  defect." 

"  Ah,  you  are  a  young  people !  "We  need 
spicier  things  to  suit  our  vitiated  and  per 
verted  taste." 

"  I  dislike  to  be  laughed  at." 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  63 

"  I  was  never  more  serious  in  ray  life." 

Then  the  Imperial  party  entered  and  Lady 
Xavier  carried  away  Mrs.  Acton  to  be  pre 
sented  to  their  Majesties. 

I  stood  against  a  pillar  and  watched  the 
pageant.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  vexation, 
I  fear,  in  my  manner,  when  Prince  D.  tapped 
me  on  the  shoulder  and  issued  his  commands 
that  I  should  engage  the  Princess  Nikitenko 
for  the  Mazurka,  that  wild  coquettish  dance, 
little  suited  to  the  mature  proportions  of  my 
partner.  But  I  was  caught 

For  nearly  an  hour  I  lost  sight  of  Madame 
Acton  while  I  piloted  my  stout  partner 
through  the  intricate  figures.  I  heard  dis 
tant  rumors,  however,  of  her  successes.  Sev 
eral  women  asked  me  if  I  had  seen  the 
Amtiricaine,  and  some  men  in  passing  urged 
me  to  present  them. 

When  the  Mazurka  was  over,  with  indecent 
haste  I  bowed  to  my  Princess  and  wandered 
forth  in  search  of  her.  I  found  her  at  last  in 
the  conservatory  amid  a  forest  of  plants  and 
shrubs,  half  hidden.  Berg  was  leaning  over 


64  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

her,  and  a  certain  Circassian  prince  of  my 
acquaintance,  brave  in  his  purple  velvet  doub 
let  tipped  with  sables,  his  sabre  and  jewelled 
poniard,  was  holding  her  cup  of  yellow  chay. 
Did  she  look  a  little  bored,  or  was  it  only  my 
fatuity  which  fancied  that  her  fair  face  lighted 
up  in  welcome  at  my  approach  ? 

"  Well,  mon  cher"  I  said  to  Prince  Savfet, 
"  another  beautiful  woman  has  succumbed  to 
your  poniard  and  those  fiirs  of  yours.  And 
he  has  the  folly  to  believe,  madame,  that  it  is 
all  for  his  beaux  yeux." 

"Why,  this  lady  has  ill-treated  me,  called 
me  a  savage,  and  refused  to  take  my  arm  to 
supper,"  answered  Savfet,  looking  down  at 
Mrs.  Acton  with  the  dreamy  far-away  eyes 
of  his  race. 

Berg  certainly  has  a  most  indecent  tone 
with  women.  I  could  have  fairly  struck  him 
in  the  face  for  the  way  he  was  devouring  Mrs. 
Acton  with  his  eyes.  The  devil  take  his  im 
pudence  !  And  she,  to  be  sure,  careless  and 
languid,  indifferent, — who  knows,  perhaps 
pleased!  I  notice  the  greater  the  lady  and 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  65 

the  more  refined,  the  less  mindful  she  is  of 
such  bold  glances.  Can  it  be  possible  they 
do  not  detect  the  lurking  insult  in  such 
homage ! 

Every  woman  seems  to  prefer  a  compliment 
to  her  beauty  than  to  her  intellect,  to  her 
fascination  than  to  her  moral  qualities.  I  am 
positive  that  the  Empress  is  just  the  same. 
They  absolutely  like  it,  and  there  is  some 
truth  in  poor  Nathalie's  cynicism. 

After  a  few  more  words  of  badinage  I. offered 
her  my  arm.  "  Come,"  I  said,  authoritatively, 
and  she  came.  Away  from  the  others,  her 
graceful  swaying  figure  balanced  on  my  arm 
by  the  light  touch  of  a  long  gloved  hand,  the 
little  curls  of  her  dark  hair  just  brushing 
against  the  gold  of  my  epaulet,  we  passed 
down  the  stately  halls  together,  reflected  in  a 
hundred  mirrors.  People  asked  who  was  this 
tall  stranger  in  her  exquisite  pale  draperies 
which  fell  about  her  like  the  peplum  of  a 
Greek  goddess. 

She  was  very  quiet;  not  in  the  least  dazzled 
by  anything  that  she  saw;  much  more  of  a 
«  e* 


66  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

princess  than  the  real  ones,  I  thought,  with 
her  elegant  insouciance;  an  American  princess 
of  a  subtler  quality.  I  remembered  poor 
Flavie  with  her  unkempt  locks  and  her  petty 
economies ! 

Of  course  this  can  be  nothing  serious,  only 
...  I  wonder  who  and  what  she  is.  I  hardly 
know  what  we  talked  about.  I  only  know 
that  her  heart  beat  close  to  mine,  and  made 
its  pulses  warmer.  I  spoke  to  her  of  the 
approaching  masked  ball. 

"  My  uncle  would  not  approve,"  she  said. 
"  Then  do  not  tell  him ;  only  go  !" 
"  What  vile  advice !     Of  course  to  go  clan 
destinely  would  be  a  great  inducement.    But 
I  should  have  fancied  you  too  conservative  to 
give  a  young  woman  such  evil  counsel,  par 
ticularly  when  her  nature  inclines  her  to  follow 
it.     What !  deceive  my  good  kind  uncle  who 
is  so  indulgent  to  me  ?" 

"  So  you  think  me  conservative  ?" 
"  I  know  that  you  are."  * 

"Think  what  you  will,  only  promise  me 
you  will  go  to  the  masked  ball,"  I  said,  hotly. 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  67 

"  There  are  things,  monsieur,  one  does,  and 
one  does  not  say." 

She  is  enchanting ! 

That  was  a  good  ball ! 

January  24. — At  the  Anichkoff  this  morning 
I  found  the  Czar  playing  at  snowballs  with  his 
boys  in  the  palace  court-yard.  The  Empress 
smiled  down  at  them  from  her  windows:  a 
pretty  family  group. 

There  is  to  be  a  review  on  the  26th,  in  my 
honor,  I  believe.  To-day  no  one  seems  in  the 
mood  to  discuss  state  problems.  Every  one  is 
lazy,  still  more  or  less  in  a  praznik  humor. 
The  review,  if  this  moderate  weather  continues, 
will  take  place  on  the  Siemnie  Dovarietz 
Square.  The  snow  is  falling ;  this  queer  Rus 
sian  snow,  like  salt,  sifting,  drifting  down. 
No  storm,  no  wind ;  all  swift  and  silent.  It 
never  melts  here,  and  they  care  for  the  streets, 
so  that  the  walking  is  clean  and  hard. 

I  am  better  off  than  I  expected.  I  like  my 
rooms.  £  think  I  can  help  my  government. 
I  am  rid  of  the  Flavie-Harnay  complications. 
My  sovereign  seems  contented  with  my  reports. 


68  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

My  mornings  are  spent  at  my  work  and  in 
attendance  at  the  palace  or  at  the  foreign  min 
istry.  At  three  the  twilight  creeps  on;  one 
winds  one's  lamp  and  then  goes  out  visiting 
until  dinner-time.  Then  a  ball  or  a  play  and 
supper.  They  are  beginning  to  organize  troika 
parties.  Mrs.  Acton  should  try  the  troika. 
She  would  like  the  rush  of  it,  if  she  be  a  true 
American.  Only  to  think  that  I  do  not  even 
know  her  petit  nom  !  I  will  wager  it  is  a  pecu 
liar  one,  like  herself.  I  will  not  forget  to  ask 
her. 

The  streets  are  bright  to-day  with  walkers 
and  equipages.  I  enjoy  the  excitement  of  this 
rapid  driving  through  the  nipping  air.  It  is 
capital  fan.  One  forgets  one  is  living  on  a 
morass.  How  despotic  was  the  construction 
of  Petersburg !  One  man's  isolated  act,  build 
ing  on  a  hopeless  waste,  surrounded  by  endless 
uncultivated  plains.  Who  can  tell  how  much 
of  the  mystic  sadness,  the  strength  and  patience 
of  the  Russian  of  to-day  may  be  traced  to  the 
fact  that  his  culture  and  his  government  come 
to  him  from  this  Baltic-girt  ice-bound  city, 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  69 

spring  from  a  cruel  fight  with  the  forces  of 
nature,  and  are  in  their  very  birth  a  sacrifice  ? 
Petersburg  was  a  work  of  genius.  To  create 
is  to  suffer ! 

Later. — It  is  decided  that  all  the  military 
shall  go  to  the  masked  ball  en  bourgeois. 
Women  have  told  me  I  looked  well  in  citizen's 
clothes.  If  Mrs.  Acton  be  there  will  she  recog 
nize  me,  I  wonder!  These  were  my  reflec 
tions  as  I  struggled  into  my  dress  suit  and 
white  cravat.  To  myself  I  looked  like  a  dis 
sipated  old  dandy.  Ohimd  I 

What  a  queer  effect  a  bal  masque"  produces 
upon  one's  first  entrance !  The  Tziganes  had 
been  hired  to  amuse  the  company,  and  were 
still  singing  their  wild  ditties  when  I  arrived 
about  one  o'clock.  There  seemed  to  be  much 
gayety  among  the  merry  maskers,  but  some 
how  I  could  not  feel  the  slightest  breath  of 
excitement  or  of  entrain.  I  leaned  wearily  for 
some  time  against  a  column,  watching  the 
varied  scene,  when  suddenly  Berg  passed  and 
jostled  me  in  the  crowd,  with  a  tall  domino 
upon  his  arm,  to  whom  he  was  discoursing  in 


70  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

animated  Russian.  It  impressed  me  that  she 
did  not  understand  a  word  that  he  was  saying. 
She  seemed  listless  and  distraite. 

She  wore  a  long  rich  gray  garment,  made 
like  a  coat,  with  high  puffed  sleeves,  opening 
over  a  pale  yellow  skirt;  it  was  richly  em 
broidered  about  the  throat  and  wrists.  Her 
small  head  was  closely  shrouded  in  white  laces, 
and  she  wore  a  yellow  satin  mask.  It  was  a 
striking  costume  enough,  and  people  turned  to 
look  at  her.  It  was  made  so  as  to  disguise 
somewhat,  although  it  could  not  conceal  the 
lines  of  her  figure. 

After  passing  me  she  seemed  to  hesitate  a 
moment,  then  left  Berg  abruptly,  and,  turning 
away  from  him  and  gliding  swiftly  up  to  me, 
slipped  her  hand  through  my  arm.  The  Grand 
Dukes  stopped  to  speak  with  me  at  this  mo 
ment,  and  addressed  a  few  words  of  gallantry 
to  my  companion,  but  she  did  not  deign  to 
reply  to  them,  only  clinging  a  little  closer  to 
my  side. 

"Whom  do  you  seek?"  she  whispered  at 
last,  in  an  unnatural  key. 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  71 

"Really,"  I  Baid,  nonchalantly,  "I  am  ex 
pecting  no  one.  Petersburg  holds  few  interests 
to  me,  and  I  merely  looked  in  at  this  ball  as 
a  civility  to  our  hostess,  Madame  Soltikoff." 

She  pulled  a  pencil  out  from  the  gold  girdle 
which  was  drawn  about  her  waist,  and  a  tiny 
ivory  tablet,  and  wrote,  "  I  was  admiring  your 
enthusiasm !" 

"  My  enthusiasm  ?" 

"Yes.  You  were  looking  about  with  an 
expression  of  idiotic  pleasure  when  I  rescued 
you  from  your  contemplations." 

"  Seriously,  have  you  seen  any  woman  here 
to-night  whose  masked  loveliness  seemed  to 
attract  me  ?  Did  I  look  as  if  I  were  waiting 
for  some  one  ?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  did  not 
reply. 

"While  we  had  so  spoken  we  had  wandered 
from  among  the  throng  which  gathered  about 
the  dance-rooms  and  the  buffets,  into  a  little 
boudoir  whose  cool  loveliness  had  not  yet 
been  invaded.  My  companion  drew  her  arm 
from  mine,  and  seated  herself  with  a  sigh 


72  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

upon  a  low  couch  which  stood  invitingly  near. 
It  was  wide  enough  for  two,  although  not  very 
wide,  and  I  slipped  into  it  by  her  side.  All 
the  ennui  was  gone  now. 

"  How  nice  you  look  like  that,  dressed  like 
a  man  of  the  world,"  she  said. 

"What!  really?"  I  felt  myself  blushing 
with  delight, — turning  mahogany  color,  as  my 
brother  Marc  fraternally  remarks,  when  I  am 
flushed  with  sentiment. 

•"And  you?"  I  said,  secretly  exhilarated 
by  the  contact  of  her  shoulder,  and  a  queer 
delicious  perfume  which  came  to  me  in  wafts 
from  -  her  laces  and  hair,  and  which  made  me 
just  a  bit  dizzy, — "and  you,  are  you  very 
beautiful  to-night  ?" 

For  all  answer  she  drew  off  her  gloves  from 
her  strong,  white  hands,  and,  disentangling 
her  mask,  pulled  it  off  suddenly  and  cast  it 
from  her  upon  a  distant  seat. 

"Ugh!"  she  said,  raising  her  arms  to  re 
adjust  her  disordered  headgear,  and,  with  a 
funny  little  groan,  "I  was  half  stifled;"  and 
ahe  drew  the  lace  back  tightly  across  her  fore- 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  D^ARF  73 

head  just  above  her  brow.  Her  profile  seen 
thus  coiffed  like  an  Eastern  woman  struck  me 
with  its  delicacy  and  fineness.  Her  cheeks 
were  all  aflame  from  the  heat  of  the  mask, 
her  half-open  lips  looked  red  like  blood. 
How  little  women  know  the  power  of  such 
disarray!  She  was  an  entirely  different  be 
ing  from  the  lady  of  the  court  ball;  she 
seemed  much  nearer  to  me.  A  wild  desire 
to  crush  and  hurt  her  seized  me,  to  deepen 
the  flame  on  her  cheeks,  to  awaken  some 
sentiment  of  love  or  of  hate  in  those  sleepy 
eyes. 

"You  are  a  pretty  woman,"  I  said,  scan 
ning  her  critically  from  head  to  foot  with  an 
impertinent  audacity  at  which  I  myself  mar 
velled,  "  but  you  are  scarcely  beautiful.  Not 
one  of  those  women  of  whom  one  says,  *  She 
is  possessed  of  a  dazzling  seduction.' " 

She  remained  silent  for  a  moment  and  then 
languidly  turned  towards  me,  raising  her  face 
up  almost  to  the  level  of  my  own.  She 
opened  those  half-closed  lids  at  last  widely 
upon  me  and  shot  into  my  soul  a  glance 
D  7 


74  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

whose  lightning  ran  through  my  senses  like 
fire.  I  can  give  no  idea  to  any  one  who  has 
never  seen  this  expression  of  Mrs.  Acton's 
face,  of  its  peculiar  power.  There  would 
indeed  be  a  lack  of  pudeur  if  a  woman  could 
so  unveil  herself  often,  and  she  inspires  me 
with  enough  confidence  to  believe  that  to 
the  many  it  has  never  been  revealed.  All  the 
anguish,  all  the  hallucinations  of  a  man's 
maddest  desire  leaped  within  me  into  life. 
In  another  moment  the  lids  were  lowered, 
with  their  impenetrable  veil,  and  a  sense  of 
loss  fell  upon  me. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?"  she  asked,  and  her  voice 
was  but  a  breath. 

"No." 

She  had  resented  my  insolence  with  her 
own  weapons.  She  was  avenged.  At  this 
moment  peals  of  boisterous  laughter  broke 
upon  our  solitude.  Lady  Xavier,  ill  con 
cealed  under  her  red  domino,  followed  by 
half  a  dozen  young  attaches,  the  Princesse 
NiMtenko,  my  late  partner  of  the  dance, 
and  old  Prince  Suwaroff  swarmed  into  our 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  75 

boudoir.  Distant  music  followed  faintly  after 
them. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening  I  remained  spellbound  by  her  side. 
Before  we  parted  I  asked  her  her  name. 
"  Daphne,"  she  said. 

When  I  reached  my  rooms  I  tried  to  reason 
with  and  laugh  at  myself.  Nothing  could  be 
more  unfortunate  and  inopportune  for  me 
than  a  serious  preference.  Mrs.  Acton  is 
either  a  very  ingenuous,  innocent,  and  impru 
dent  young  woman,  or  a  diabolic  coquette 
whom  one  had  better  avoid.  I  shall  not  try 
to  solve  the  enigma.  Of  course  I  am  not  a 
beardless  boy  or  a  stick,  to  remain  insensible 
under  such  a  challenge.  I  am  forced,  unwill 
ingly,  to  admit  that  she  is  eminently  occupy 
ing  and  disturbing ;  that  she  is  not  insignificant, 
like  the  majority  of  her  sex,  nor  one  of  those 
women  with  whom  one  can  "  amuse"  one's 
self,  and  that  she  is  distinctly  a  danger ;  yet 
1  propose  to  remain  heart-free,  and  I  fancy 
that  the  wiser  course  will  be  to  give  a  wide 
berth  to  this  extraordinary  enchantress. 


76  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

January  26. — "  The  street  fires  are  lit,  Herr 
Graff,"  said  Gustav,  when  he  opened  my  cur 
tains,  "  and  we  have  four  degrees." 

This  looks  hopeful  for  the  review  to-mor 
row.  Frozen  noses  and  feet  in  the  service  of 
Mars !  but  when  I  got  a  little  sunshine  into  my 
room,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  and  my  kalatch,  it 
was  not  so  very  terrible.  A  strong  smell  of 
chypre  pervaded  my  breakfast-tray,  and  under 
my  official  mail  and  despatches  lay  a  tiny  pink 
note,  with  a  silver  heart  pierced  by  a  dagger 
on  the  envelope.  It  was  a  rodomontade  from 
Madame  Nathalie, — the  third  that  I  have  re 
ceived  since  her  visit.  I  wonder  how  much 
longer  this  bombardment  will  continue  !  She 
considers  I  have  treated  her  ill;  I  have  not 
called  upon  her ;  I  have  not  been  to  the  thea 
tre  ;  I  have  not  answered  her  letters ;  I  have 
not  lent  her  the  books  she  asked  for, — Mein 
G-ott !  what  books  ?  Finally,  she  admires  and 
reveres  me.  When  will  I  let  her  come  to 
breakfast  again?  Then  I  find  a  tiny,  timid 
letter  from  Flavie.  She  has  had  the  brilliants 
taken  from  the  book-mark  I  sent  her  and  set 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  77 

into  a  ring.  The  devil  take  her  and  her  mawk 
ish  folly !  I  am  her  true,  betit,  only  friend, — 
except  Madame  Harnay,  the  old  hypocrite! 
Papa  has  the  gout,  and  is,  oh,  so  cross !  And 
will  I  write  soon  ?  She  remains  devotedly  my 
friend,  Flavie,  Princesse  of  S.  V. 

So  much  for  the  ladies.  Of  the  contents  of 
my  official  mail  I  write  nothing  here.  Stoffel 
has  not  understood  my  last  letters.  Bon  I  it  is 
all  to  do  over.  I  feel  dull  and  have  a  cold  in 
my  head.  I  don  my  shuba  and  goloshes  and 
go  out  for  a  walk,  but  I  am  lazy  and  tired,  and 
I  hail  an  isvoztchik  at  the  street  corner.  The 
isvoztcliih  is  so  fat  that  he  keeps  my  feet 
warm,  and  as  we  dash  at  full  speed  through 
the  Fourschtatskaia  I  have  an  experience :  all 
the  blood  leaves  my  heart  suddenly, — it 
gives  a  wild  leap.  My  lips  become  dry  and 
parched ;  fingers  of  iron  seem  to  be  clutching 
at  my  throat;  my  limbs  grow  numb  and 
tremble.  As  suddenly  these  peculiarly  un 
pleasant  sensations  subside,  and  leave  me  a 
helpless  limp  mass  clinging  to  the  strap  of  my 
qani  with  one  hand  and  to  my  driver's  belt 

7* 


78  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIART 

with  the  other.  He  cries  "  Birigui !"  to  a 
hapless  passer-by,  shows  his  teeth,  and  urges 
on  his  horse,  thinking  undoubtedly  that  the 
Barin  is  in  a  hurry. 

!Nbw  what  was  the  cause  of  this  curious 
nervous  spasm  ?  Simply  this :  I  caught  sight 
of  a  brown  shuba,  bordered  with  dark  furs, 
and  enveloping  the  slender  form  of  ... 

Is  it  possible  ?  No,  it  is  not  possible,  yet  no 
man  of  my  years  is  entirely  a  novice  to  such 
symptoms.  She  was  walking  with  her  aunt. 
They  were  entirely  unconscious  of  my  pres 
ence.  But  is  it,  or  is  it  not,  as  I  say,  pos 
sible  that  such  a  slight  cause  should  produce 
such  a  powerful  effect,  and  %so  upset  a  per 
son  of  my  health  and  vigor?  What  can  it 
mean? 

If  I  were  younger,  if  I  was  not  disillusioned, 
if  I  had  not  thoroughly  acknowledged  my  sati 
ety  of  life,  I  should  say  .  .  .  but,  no  \  At  any 
rate,  it  is  an  extremely  peculiar  psychological 
fact.  I  ordered  my  isvozhhik  to  drive  on  any 
where,  everywhere.  We  seemed  to  go  very 
for;  my  teeth  chattered.  Finally  he  pulls  up 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIART  79 

at  a  monastery  porch,  and  mumbles  in  Russian 
that  there  is  a  fine  "  something"  going  on  in 
there  which  the  Barin  should  see  for  himself. 
I  spring  out  of  the  sleigh  into  a  snow-drift, 
uncover,  and  go  in.  The  Sisters  are  holding 
a  service-,  and  the  church  is  dark,  save  where 
the  wax-lights  glitter  at  the  altar  and  before 
the  sacred  Icons.  This  is,  I  perceive,  a  very 
aristocratic  sisterhood,  of  whom  I  think  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  a  demoiselle  Oblensky  is 
Mother  Superior.  Many  of  them  show  their 
birth  and  elegance  even  under  the  austere 
garb  in  which  they  move  and  stand  in  the 
nave  together.  The  music  is  low  and  plain 
tive.  I  am  offered  a  lighted  taper ;  I  take  it ; 
at  a  certain  moment  we  all  turn  them  down, 
and  they  go  out.  I  kneel  for  a  moment  be 
fore  I  go  forth  into  the  sunshine.  I  utter  no 
prayer,  but  calm  has  returned  to  me;  the  fever 
is  past.  Thank  God ! 

What  could  they  be  doing  in  the  Fourschtat- 
skaia  at  that  hour  ?  Perhaps  they  were  going 
to  breakfast  with  the  Prinoesse  Vera,  who 
lives  at  No.  30.  It  is  the  most  ridiculous 


80  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

nonsense !  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing !  I 
mean  ...  I  don't  know  what  I  mean ! 

When  I  come  in,  instead  of  settling  down 
to  business  and  to  the  gruesomeness  of  my 
reports,  I.  am  utterly  restless  and  demoralized, 
and  I  finally  write  a  short  note  and  direct 
it  to  Madame  Lucien  Acton,  Americanskoe 
Posolstvo.  No  woman  has  ever  before  so 
interfered  with  my  duties.  I  do  not  say  this 
boastfully,  for  I  have  not  had  a  high  enough 
opinion  of  the  sex. 

My  note  is  merely  a  formal  announcement 
that  I  shall  do  myself  the  honor  of  calling 
upon  her  at  five,  and  a  request  that  she  will 
let  me  know  if  she  can  receive  me.  As  there 
is  no  earthly  visible  reason  why  I  should  not 
call  at  the  legation,  it  will  be  very  evident  to 
her  that  my  letter  is  only  a  trap  to  secure 
something  from  her,  —  anything.  A  silly, 
vulgar  trap,  written  over  three  times,  end 
lessly  corrected,  and  awkwardly  enough  ex 
pressed  in  the  end.  My  charming  enemy, 
however,  does  not  fall  into  the  trap.  I  begin 
to  think  her  unattractively  clever.  I  wait  and 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  gl 

I  wait.  Narishkine  is  announced,  arid,  as  he 
talks,  I  watch  the  door.  Gustav  enters  with 
some  eau  de  Seltz. 

"  Quick !"  I  say,  "  the  answer  to  that  note !" 

Gustav  stares,  Narishkine  stares,  I  stare. 

"  There  is  no  note ;  they  said  there  was  no 
answer." 

Four  o'clock  comes.  N".  takes  his  depart 
ure.  I  make  an  excuse  to  accompany  him 
as  far  as  the  porter's  lodge.  I  tap  at  the 
latter's  window. 

"Has  a  note  come  for  me?  Adno  pismof 
adno  pismo  ?" 

"  Nieto  pismo  /" 

I  seize  him  roughly  by  the  shoulder  and 
shake  him. 

"  Quick,"  I  say,  "  fellow,  disgorge  that  note 
you  must  be  hiding  somewhere !" 

He  disengages  himself,  rubs  his  head,  and 
evidently  believes  the  Barin  is  crazy  or  drunk. 
I  mumble  a  feeble  apology,  say  there  is  a  mis 
take,  and  give  him  three  rubles.  He  takes 
the  money  and  closes  the  door  carefully ,  put 
ting  himself  well  out  of  my  reach,  and  peep- 


82  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

ing  cautiously  out  through  the  pane  of  glass 
at  which  he  reconnoitres  the  campaign  of  life, 
observes  me  furtively  as  I  go  back  slowly  to 
my  apartments. 

I  have  an  extremely  bad  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Has  she  taken  offence  ?  Was  she  really  angry 
last  night  ?  and  did  she  only  conceal  her  vexa 
tion  for  future  revenge?  Was  my  note  an 
improper  one  ?  How  can  I  tell  what  her  point 
of  view  upon  these  questions  may  be  ?  Too 
warm  ?  Too  cold  ?  Five  o'clock  comes,  and 
I  have  lashed  myself  into  a  condition  of  mis 
erable  anxiety.  I  order  my  sleigh  and  am 
driven  to  the  legation. 

"  Is  Madame  Acton  at  home  ?"  I  am  too 
impatient  even  to  name  Mrs.  North. 

"Oui,  monsieur."  The  Chasseur  Alexei 
smiles  and  ushers  me  up-stairs.  "Madame  is 
in  the  boudoir."  He  pushes  the  heavy  por 
tiere  slightly,  and,  announcing  me,  retires. 

I  enter,  but  there  is  no  goddess  in  the 
temple ;  only  a  scent  of  lilies,  and  a  bright  fire 
in  the  open  hearth.  I  am  about  to  turn  and 
call  him  back,  when  through  another  curtain 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  83 

which  hangs  before  a  smaller  side  door  I  hear 
a  few  chords  struck  on  a  piano  and  a  rich  voice 
breaks  forth  into  song. 

I  have  found  the  song  since,  and  I  give  it 
here  as  it  fell  for  the  first  time  upon  my  ears : 

"  Bois  frissonnant,  ciel  etoile, 
Mon  bien  aime  s'en  est  alle, 
Emportant  mon  coeur  desol6. 

11  Le  premier  jour  qu'il  vint  ici 
Mon  ame  fut  a  sa  mcrci ; 
De  fierte  je  n'eus  plus  souci. 

"  Mon  regard  etait  plein  d'aveuz, 
II  me  prit  dans  ses  bras  nerveux, 
Et  me  baisa  pros  dcs  cheveux. 

"  J'en  eus  un  long  fremissement, 
Et  puis,  je  ne  eais  plus  comment 
II  est  devenu  mon  amant. 

"  Je  lui  disais,  '  Tu  m'aimeras 
Aussi  longtemps  quo  tu  pourras  ?' 
Je  ne  dormais  bien  qu'en  sea  bras. 

"  Mais  lui,  sentant  son  cceur  eteint, 
S'en  est  allo,  1'autre  matin, 
Sans  moi  I  dans  un  pays  lointain." 


84  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

Oh,  who  could  paint  the  inexpressive  reck 
lessness  with  which  this  daughter  of  the  Puri 
tans  sajig !  The  timid  awakening  of  the  first 
verse,  the  pent-up  fires  of  the  second,  the  agony 
and  despair  of  the  last. 

I  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  my  heart 
fluttered  with  pleasure,  like  a  school-boy's,  but 
the  blood  which  flowed  through  my  veins  was 
not  a  boy's.  As  I  listened  to  the  intoxicating 
accents  of  this  creature,  who  was  so  near  me 
and  yet  unconscious  of  my  presence,  I  pic 
tured  to  myself  that  in  a  moment  she  would 
stand  beside  me,  when  I  too,  like  the  lover  in 
the  song,  would  seize  her  in  my  arms  and  kiss 
her  hair.  I  wanted  to  wring  and  hurt  her 
long  fingers  in  mine,  to  crush  her  close 
against  me,  until  she  shrunk  and  cried  for 
mercy. 

Mine  is  not  a  fierce  nature.  On  the  field  my 
heart  bleeds  for  the  wounded  enemy.  I  am 
kind  and  tender  with  women,  but  I  can  hardly 
depict  the  sentiment  Daphne  had  awakened  in 
me  by  her  strange  singing.  The  curtain  waa 
suddenly  pulled  back  with  an  energetic  hand. 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  85 

"  Tiens  !"  she  said,  entering ;  "  is  it  you  ?" 

I  thought  I  had  never  seen  her  looking  so 
unapproachable,  and  my  heart  sank^  Even 
her  dress  was  discouraging.  She  was  clad  all 
in  black,  in  sombre  folds  of  heavy  plush,  which 
threw  out  in  startling  contrast  the  fairness  of 
her  throat.  She  motioned  me  to  a  seat,  and 
herself  assumed  a  somewhat  studied  majesty 
of  pose  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  which  was  drawn 
close  to  the  fire.  Her  eyes  were  cold,  and 
rested  upon  me  like  ice. 

"  Why  did  you  not  answer  my  letter  ?"  I 
began,  with  a  certain  bitterness,  asking  myself 
if  this  woman  and  the  songstress  could  indeed 
be  the  same. 

"  Your  letter  ?  .  .  .  Oh ! — did  it  require  a 
reply  ?" 

I  thought  of  my  restless  afternoon,  and 
groaned. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "very." 

She  laughed.  "  Why,  you  look  so  white  you 
really  quite  frighten  me." 

"  Bo  I,  madame  ?  I  did  not  imagine  myself 
8 


86  ^  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

very  alarming.  I  assure  you  you  are  quite 
safe." 

She  leaned  her  head  back  against  the 
laces  of  a  soft  cushion,  with  her  chin  up  a 
little  and  the  firelight  on  her  bright  brown 
hair. 

"  What  news  from  .  .  .  your  court  ?"  she 
asked,  lightly,  with  that  gift  of  changing  the 
subject  which  is  so  peculiarly  her  own,  and  as 
if  desiring  to  avoid  personal  talk. 

"  Oh,  nothing  in  particular,"  I  replied, 
having  regained  my  sang-froid;  "only  I  am 
always  anxious  about  my  adored  Emperor. 
If  he  should  be  taken " 

"  He  is  very  old,"  she  said,  laconically. 

"  Of  course,"  I  answered,  a  little  angered  at 
her  manner,  "  it  is  impossible  for  an  American 
to  enter  into  our  feelings." 

"  Yes,  thank  God,"  she  said,  dryly,  and  in  a 
staccato  voice  which  I  did  not  recognize  as  her 
own.  "  We  are  not  an  exalte  people." 

"  That  means,  I  suppose,  that  we  are  ?" 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  My  Emperor  has  been  for  many  years  the 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  87 

one  great  pure  affection  of  my  heart,  and  of 
his  people's,"  I  added,  a  little  pompously. 

"  A  peculiar  affection,  to  wish  him  to  suffer." 

"  1  wish  him  to  suffer  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  said,  impatiently.  "  Do  you 
suppose  life  is  amusing  when  one  is  nearly  one 
hundred,  and  one  has  no  teeth  nor  hair  nor  any 
thing?  Only  family  quarrels  and  political 
brawls  for  one's  entertainment  ?" 

"  You  are  hard  upon  us,  madame." 

She  smothered  a  yawn  behind  her  hand. 

"  For  myself  I  like  the  display  and  splendors 
of  a  court,"  she  continued ;  "  but  the  people 
all  seem  puppets  and  mountebanks  made  for 
my  especial  entertainment,  and  they  impress 
me,  a  republican,  with  not  one  whit  of  rever 
ence  or  awe.  I  suppose  that  is  hard  for  them 
and  their  sycophants.  Why,  since  I  left 
America  I  have  only  met  one  man  !" 

"  I  fear  I  am  .  .  .  boring  you,"  I  said,  stiffly. 
"  Pardon  me  if  I  intruded ;"  and  I  rose.  Her 
tone  was  so  disobliging  that  I  could  hardly 
remain  with  dignity. 

"  I  suppose  if  you,  for  instance,"  she  con- 


88  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

tinued,  not  noticing  my  movement,  "  were 
ordered  to  kill  some  one,  or  to  ...  marry 
some  one,  you  would  have  to  obey  instantly." 

I  could  not  help  laughing.  "  If  I  had  the 
right  to  tell  you  of  a  recent  episode  of  my 
career,  you  would  absolve  me  at  least  from  the 
charge  of  such  abject  servitude." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it  would  be  very  interesting," 
she  answered,  mockingly. 

"  But,"  I  continued,  irritated,  "  while  I  am 
not  too  proud  to  be  one  of  the  puppets  to  dance 
for  your  amusement,  I  fear  at  present  I  am  a 
failure  even  in  this  role,  and  will  therefore  bid 
you  good-evening." 

"  You  will  not  wait  for  tea  ?"  she  said,  with 
a  slight  compunction.  As  I  weakly  hesitated 
a  moment  she  made  a  gesture  as  if  she  would 
detain  me. 

"Let  us  speak  seriously  for  a  moment, 
madame,"  I  said.  "  Men  of  my  world  have 
told  me  I  possessed  tact.  The  mission  which 
brought  me  to  this  country  is  one  which  re 
quires  discreet  and  delicate  handling.  It  could 
hardly  have  been  intrusted  to  a  blunderer,  but 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  89 

in  you  I  find  a  riddle  that  baffles  all  my  expe 
rience,  and  while  it  is  undoubtedly  well  worth 
the  reading,  I  fear  I  have  not  the  requisite 
courage  to  attempt  the  task.  All  the  odds 
would  be  against  me.  I  will  leave  its  unravel 
ling  to  the  one  fortunate  '  man'  to  whom  you 
alluded  a  moment  since." 

"  He  does  not  care,"  she  faltered,  faintly. 

"  That,"  I  replied,  "  is  hardly  possible,  if 
your  eyes  have  rested  upon  him,  in  approval, 
•sven  for  a  passing  moment.  Of  myself  I  have 
nothing  further  to  say.  When  you  did  not 
deign  to  answer  my  note,  the  cruelty  and  neg 
lect  should  have  opened  my  eyes  to  the  fact 
that  I  am  importunate  and  unwelcome.  Ah, 
if  you  only  knew,  madame,  with  what  respect 
and  humility  it  was  written,  and  with  what 
impatience  and  longing  I  awaited  your  bid 
ding!" 

"I  take  no  lessons  in  behavior!"  She 
looked  at  me  haughtily,  but  I  noticed  that  her 
lips  trembled. 

"  I  offer  none,"  I  replied.  "  I  only  with 
draw.  I  came,  unbidden,  because  to  stay  away 
8* 


90  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

seemed  death,  and,  just  now,  when  I  listened 
to  your  beautiful  voice,  I  thought  myself  in 
heaven.  My  mind  was  full  of  thoughts  I 
wished  to  express  to  you.  My  heart,  oh,  I 
wish  that  my  heart  might  have  been  bared  to 
you !  It  was  overflowing !  I  had  so  much  to 
say  to  you,  but  the  disillusion  and  disappoint 
ment  have  been  complete."  An  extraordi 
nary  emotion  shook  me.  I  turned  away  from 
her  that  she  should  not  see  how  unmanned  I 
was. 

When  I  looked  at  her  again,  imagine  my 
amazement  when  suddenly,  yes,  there  could 
be  no  doubt,  two  large  drops  detached  them 
selves  from  under  her  eyelashes,  ran  slowly 
down  her  cheeks  and  fell  upon  her  hands, 
which  were  clasped  together  across  her  knees. 

I  sprang  towards  her,  my  sword  clanking 
against  her  chair.  "  My  child,"  I  said,  "  have 
I  wounded  you  ?" 

"  Count  Berg,"  announced  Alexei ;  and  then 
others  came :  Mrs.  North,  complaining  of  the 
cold ;  Mr.  North,  talkative  and  a  trifle  prolix ; 
Madame  de  Barythine,  still  gossiping  about 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  91 

her  niece  Wasia,  the  Oblensky  diamonds,  and 
her  dead  lord's  mausoleum. 

I  sat  rooted  to  the  spot,  meekly  absorbing 
tea  and  little  cakes,  agreeing  with  everybody, 
feebly,  mildly,  unutterably  imbecile.  Mrs. 
Acton,  on  the  contrary,  was  sparkling,  original, 
and  gay,  developing  those  peculiar  gifts  and 
graces  which  fit  her  so  eminently  for  the  salon. 
She  possesses  to  a  rare  degree  the  facility  of 
turning  from  the  discussion  of  serious  topics  to 
that  of  adorable  fatuities. 

I  remember  some  remarks  she  made  apropos 
of  the  Latin  and  Anglo-Saxon  races :  "  I  like 
the  Russians,"  she  was  saying,  "  because  they 
e^e  nearer  to  me.  The  Slav  I  can  understand, 
but  between  us  and  the  Latins  is  a  great  gulf, 
impassable.  "Why,  look  at  it !  The  marriages 
are  hardly  ever  happy,  and  even  friendships 
are  at  best  halt  and  lame.  "We  shall  always 
speak  a  different  language,  and  forever  mis 
understand  each  other.  Between  myself,  ma 
tante"  she  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  North,  "  and 
my  friend,  Heloise  de  St.  Pierre,  for  instance, 
there  is  a  sincere  affection,  much  mutual 


92  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

regard,  and  yet  with  it  all  a  secret  antagonism 
which  I  have  always  felt  will  explode  some 
day  and  bury  all  our  past  beneath  its  ruins. 
They  are  prudent,  narrow,  calculating.  "We 
are  reckless,  wild,  fond  of  change.  It  is  not 
only  the  education  and  the  customs,  but  the 
temperament  is  absolutely  different." 

Berg,  with  his  mouth  fall  of  cake,  thought 
all  humanity  was  the  same;  only  individual 
sentiments  differed.  He  was  glad,  however, 
that  he  was  himself  a  Saxon,  and  therefore 
satisfactory,  and  fully  able  to  appreciate  Mrs. 
Acton's  brilliant  opinions;  to  which  she  re 
plied,  "Ah!"  with  a  sarcastic  inflection  which 
did  me  good. 

I  left  by  and  by  with  the  others,  merely  ex 
changing  a  formal  farewell  with  Mrs.  Acton. 
When  I  got  into  the  street  I  put  my  hand  to 
my  head.  One  thing  is  certain :  I  shall  be 
much  happier.  The  struggle  is  over :  I  love 
her! 

I  remembered  that  I  had  always  thought 
what  I  desired  and  admired  most  in  a  woman 
was  great  simplicity,  and — I  laughed.  » 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  93 

January  26. — Strangers  meet,  they  gauge 
each  other :  one  is  master. 

More  courage  is  required  to  avoid  temptation 
than  to  give  it  battle.  Love  is  not  a  malady, 
but  a  plenitude  of  health,  of  happy  body  and 
mind.  Why,  then,  try  to  escape  ?  Is  it  not 
better  to  love  even  unwisely  than  .  .  .  not? 
How  glorious  to  hope  and  to  fear!  Some 
women  have  an  eloquence  in  their  whole  per 
sons  which  touches  and  sets  vibrating  chords 
lying  wrapped  away  in  the  veriest  secret  re 
cesses  of  the  heart,  but  women  are  bourgeoises 
in  their  judgments  of  each  other.  They  can 
not  understand.  They  think  beauty  or  wit 
will  master  us.  No,  mesdames,  the  mystery 
lies  deeper.  What  masters  us  is  the  promise 
that  some  women  seem  to  make  to  us, — the 
promise  to  slake  that  thirst  for  rapture  which 
every  imaginative  soul  craves.  Yet — do  we 
really  possess  them  as  wholly  as  those  who 
promise  less  ?  and  will  they  not  keep  from  us 
an  eternal  secret, — a  something  altogether 
vague  and  illusive  ?  What  is  even  the  closest 
nearness  of  two  bodies  if  the  essence  escapes? 


94  ^  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

Do  we  know  for  five  minutes  at  a  time  what 
these  creatures  are  thinking  about  ? 

"What  pain  for  a  passionate  heart  to  know 
itself  insufficient  for  the  heart  it  loves !  Me 
diocre  people  have  no  such  fears.  They  come 
to  the  great  feasts  of  life  without  humility  and 
without  distrust ;  but  people  of  high,  delicate 
organizations  and  sensitive  pride  turn  with 
question  from  the  banquet. 

One  thing  I  have  learned:  passion  is 
patient.  Those  who  say  otherwise  lie ! 

I  walked  last  night  in  a  distant  dvor,  far 
from  the  fashionable  thoroughfares.  I  like  to 
see  near  at  hand,  to  study,  this  strange,  triste, 
laborious  people,  to  mix  in  the  motley  crowd 
of  these  men,  innocent  of  bath  and  sponge, 
their  blood  burned  with  vodka,  reeking  with 
perspiration,  with  the  rank  odors  of  old  sheep 
skin  garments,  and  with  their  wild  matted 
hair  and  beards,  from  which  shine  out  their 
sad  searching  eyes.  The  girls  and  women, 
with  their  large  hips  and  bosoms,  are  straight, 
powerful,  strong-handed,  with  foolish  mouths, 
and  teeth  whose  early  decay  is  doubtless  due 


A  DIPLOMATS  DIARY  95 

to  the  exposure  of  sleeping  in  damp  court 
yards  and  to  drinking  the  marsh  waters.  I 
have  always  had  this  taste  for  contact  with 
absolute  nature.  I  am  a  romantic  realist.  I 
like  to  peer  into  their  rugged  faces.  There  is 
something  mystic  about  the  Russian  to  me; 
even  among  the  most  miserable  and  ignorant 
there  is  an  element  of  spirituality,  a  certain 
width  with  a  lack  of  clearness.  They  are  as 
misty  as  their  own  horizons.  Some  clever 
man  has  said,  "  Place  the  Latin  and  the  Slav 
before  a  spy-glass :  the  former  shortens  it  to 
suit  his  vision,  sees  clearly  and  distinctly ;  the 
latter  develops  the  full  force  of  the  lens,  and 
reaches  farther,  but  more  confusedly."  So 
when  we  study  them  we  must  employ  their 
own  methods. 

To-day  took  place  the  review  in  my  honor. 
The  troops  formed  on  the  Winter  Palace 
square,  every  one  in  full-dress  uniform,  bright 
arms,  and  the  horses'  shoes  sparkling  like 
polished  glass  on  the  silvery  snow,  which  flew 
up  like  dust  under  a  hundred  hoofs, — a  fine 
effect !  There  was  a  pink  glow  on  St.  Isaac's 


90  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

dome,  the  lovely  spire  of  the  Admiralty,  the 
casques  and  cuirasses  of  the  troops,  the  Dra 
goons,  Chevalier  Gardes,  Garde  a  Cheval,  the 
most  aristocratic  regiment  of  Russia,  Cuiras 
siers,  Lancers,  the  Infantry  Preobrajensky, 
and  the  soldiers  of  Paul,  with  their  flat  noses 
and  big  copper  hats, — a  proud  military  array, 
indeed,  upon  which  Western  Europe  may  well 
keep  its  eyes.  To  quake  is  folly,  but  vigilance 
will  be  wise.  A  magnificent  spectacle,  this  de 
file  of  the  forces  of  a  vast,  picturesque  empire. 
I  rode  close  to  the  Czar,  his  aides  following. 
We  salute  the  Empress  and  her  ladies,  who 
are  at  a  window  of  the  palace.  "  Good-day, 
my  children !"  cries  the  "  Little  Father"  to 
his  soldiers.  The  bands  strike  up  as  the  Czar 
dashes  past  on  his  great  white  horse.  After 
the  inspection  the  movements  begin.  We 
draw  up  at  the  grand  entrance,  and  when  all 
is  over  we  adjourn  to  dejeuner ',  at  which,  among 
other  dishes,  a  splendid  sturgeon  is  brought  in 
by  half  a  dozen  servants  on  a  gold  dish.  It  was 
stuffed  with  a  sort  of  gruel  which  the  peasants 
eat,  and  wMch  the  courtiers  do  not  disdain. 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  97 

Earlier  in  the  day,  as  I  had  driven  away  to 
get  my  horse  at  the  barracks,  I  had  met  the 
chasseur  of  the  American  legation.  He 
hailed  my  man  Ivan,  stopped  my  sleigh,  and 
gave  me  a  little  note.  In  romances  people 
anticipate  such  delights ;  in  real  life  they  are 
always  unexpected.  I  imagined  the  missive 
to  be  a  formal  invitation  from  Mrs.  North  to 
join  a  troika  party  the  ladies  were  planning, 
but  the  golden  crest  and  the  bold,  rather 
illegible  handwriting  were  unknown  to  me. 
I  unsealed  it.  There  were  only  a  few  words : 

"  "We  are  at  a  window  of  the  fitat  Major, 
and  shall  look  for  a  salute  from  you  when  you 
ride  past. 

"  When  you  meet  my  uncle  at  the  breakfast 
after  the  review,  speak  with  him  about  our 
troika  drive.  He  will  tell  you  all  the  arrange 
ments. 

"  Am  I  forgiven  ? 

"DAPHNE  ACTON." 

I  put  Daphne's  letter  in  my  breast  that  it 
B      g  9 


98  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

might  keep  my  heart  warm,  oh,  so  warm  !  I 
did  not  suffer  from  the  cold.  I  saw  my  joy  at 
the  window,  and  sent  her  a  salute.  What  my 
soul  sent  to  her  I  will  not  write. 

January  29. — I  met  Mr.  Korth  at  the  pal 
ace  breakfast  after  the  review,  and  while  we 
smoked  he  drew  me  apart  and  told  me  that 
the  ladies  wished  me  to  be  at  the  legation  at 
ten  o'clock  that  evening ;  that  the  party  would 
meet  there  and  drive  in  four  troikas  to  supper 
at  the  Islands;  rooms  had  been  engaged,  and- 
even  music  in  case  we  liked  to  dance.  We 
might,  if  the  people  came  punctually  enough, 
have  time  to  stop  at  the  Ice  Palace,  which 
his  niece  had  not  seen,  etc.  He  seems  an 
excellent  man. 

I  was  at  the  legation  as  the  clock  struck 
the  hour.  I  had  heralded  my  arrival  to  Mrs. 
Acton  by  a  gift  of  lilies. 

"Military  punctuality,"  cried  Mrs.  Korth, 
turning  with  cordial  greeting  from  her  occu 
pation  of  heaping  some  roses  upon  one  of  the 
innumerable  ttagbres  which  are  placed  about 
this  charming  room. 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  99 

She  was  alone  ;  how  glad  I  was  of  it !  If 
only  fifteen  minutes  tttt-h.-ie.ie  were  accorded 
to  us  I  should  at  least  know  some  things 
which  I  waited  to  hear  with  almost  febrile 
anxiety.  Is  it  possible  that  this  lady  had 
already  guessed  what  occupied  my  thought! 
Had  she  read  in  my  dark  visage  the  secret  of 
my  growing  infatuation  ?  They  say  that  the 
Yankees  are  a  shrewd  race.  Certain  it  is  that 
while  she  passed  hither  and  thither  among 
•  her  flowers,  with  considerable  tact,  and  good 
breeding,  she  managed  to  give  me  a  sketch 
of  her  niece's  past. 

"Daphne,"  she  began,  "is  late,  as  usual. 
Ten  minutes  ago  she  was  writing  letters  in 
her  role  de  'chambre,  with  her  hair  on  her 
shoulders.  She  is  the  most  extraordinary 
mixture  of  languor  and  of  energy,  calmness, 
and  unrest.  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  where 
she  gets  her  peculiarities.  I  tell  Mr.  North 
his  family  is  entirely  prosaic,  commonplace, 
aivd — as  people  should  be, — Mrs.  Acton,  you 
know,  is  his  niece,  not  mine." 

I  was  so  absorbed  in  her  words  that  as  she 


100  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

turned  to  look  at  me  a  moment  I  saw  her 
smile. 

"  You  are  a  good  listener,"  she  said.  "  You 
see  I  take  it  for  granted  that  she  interests 
you,  as  she  does  every  one  else.  Shall  I  tell 
you  something  of  her  strange  life  ?" 

I  only  bowed.  I  found  it  impossible  to 
speak. 

"Daphne  was  educated  in  Europe,  princi 
pally  in  France,  where  her  mother  made  her 
home  for  several  years.  They  had  every 
advantage,  she  and  her  sister.  Daphne's 
mother  had  married  a  man  of  very  large 
wealth;  he  was  a  power  in  our  world  of 
finance.  All  our  men,  you  know,  have  a 
serious  career.  There  came  a  *  panic,'  as  we 
call  such  a  crisis  in  America,  and  he  lost 
everything. 

"  I  think  the  loss  of  prestige  was  more  bitter 
to  him  than  that  of  wealth,  for  he  had  prided 
himself  on  his  great  capacity ;  every  one  had 
looked  up  to  him.  His  wife  and  daughters 
were  in  Europe  at  the  time.  They  hurried 
home.  Daphne  was  a  very  romantic  girl; 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  ]Q1 

she  had  not  yet  been  into  the  world.  She 
was  such  a  child !  I  can  only  thus  explain 
her  marriage ;  it  is  the  only  excuse.  Lucien 
Acton  was  the  intimate  friend  of  Daphne's 
father,  a  rich  man,  unmarried,  and  his  princi 
pal  creditor.  That  was  the  worst  of  it.  In 
the  crash  others  had  suffered. 

"  Mr.  Acton  was  ill  then  with  some  incura 
ble  malady;  his  physicians  had  declared  he 
could  not  live  many  months.  He  had  no  near 
relatives,  and  he  desired  to  leave  all  his  for 
tune  to  his  friend,  to  forgive  the  debt,  and 
make  generous  loans  immediately.  My 
brother-in-law  would  not  hear  of  this.  He 
was  a  proud  man,  and  independent.  Mr.  Ac 
ton  had  known  them  all  very  intimately  for 
years.  He  had  always  been  fond  of  the  chil 
dren,  particularly  of  Daphne.  He  had  been 
much  with  them  abroad,  and  had  interested 
himself  in  their  education.  I  myself  never 
liked  him,  but  he  was  very  clever.  At  last  he 
said,  *  Give  me  Daphne !  She  shall  be  my 
child  for  a  few  days,  and  then  my  widow. 
That  will  arrange  everything.  It  was  so  like 
y* 


102  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

Lucien  Acton.     He  was  a  cynic.  *  He  always 
thought  nothing  mattered. 

"Unfortunately,  Daphne's  mother,  half- 
laughingly,  said  to  the  girl,  'What  do  you 
think?  Mr.  Acton  suggests  .  .  .  that  you 
should  marry  him.  He  then  could  help  papa, 
and  it  would  look  less  badly  to  the  world. 
"What  a  strange  idea !'  I  say  '  unfortunately/ 
for  the  words  did  not  fall  on  unresponsive  ears. 
In  the  girl's  brain  they  took  seed  and  flour 
ished.  I  cannot  go  into  particulars.  She  ran 
away  to  him,  to  his  rooms,  one  night,  with  her 
old  nurse,  who  wickedly  abetted  her,  and  an 
other  witness,  and  they  sent  for  a  clergyman 
and  were  married.  I  consider  it  a  crime  on 
Mr.  Acton's  part.  I  never  could  understand. 
I  sometimes  wonder  if  he  were  desperately  in 
love  with  her  and  determined  that  she  should 
have  his  name.  I  don't  know  anything  about 
it.  Daphne  never  opens  her  lips.  People  say 
he  meant  well, — that  he  felt  sure  he  could  not 
live  six  weeks.  The  most  awful  thing  is  that 
he  got  better  and  lived  .  .  .  not  six  weeks, 
but  ten  years !  although  always  a  cripple." 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  103 

My  heart  was  on  fire ;  my  hands  like  ice. 

**  And  her  parents  ?"  I  asked,  coldly. 

"  They  were  violently  angry  at  first,  and 
for  a  long  time,  hut  .  .  .  what  will  you 
have?" 

Mrs.  North  put  a  finishing  touch  to  a  vase 
upon  the  mantel-piece  at  my  side,  and  then 
drew  away  to  see  its  effect. 

"  The  most  intense  rancunes,"  she  continued, 
leaving  her  flowers  to  seat  herself  near  the 
fire  at  my  side, — "the  most  intense  rancunes 
have  to  end.  We  are  all  weak  and  vacillating 
at  the  best,  and — shall  I  admit  it? — not  in 
sensible,  I  fear,  to  material  success.  "When 
Daphne  developed  into  a  leader  of  fashion,  and 
was  distinguished  and  sought  after  by  all  the 
most  elegant  men  and  women  of  her  coterie, 
as  the  years  went  by,  all  had  to  be  accepted. 
I  am  afraid  that  perhaps  they  felt  just  a  little 
pride  in  her.  She  made  her  young  sister  the 
fashion,  too,  and  married  her  well. 

"  I  must  say  Lucien  Acton  behaved  nobly 
to  her.  'My  dear,'  he  used  to  say,  'I  can 
never  forgive  myself  for  not  having  died  when 


104  A   DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

I  ought,  but  you  will  bear  with  me  to  the  end. 
It  cannot  be  for  long.'  On  dit  that  all  their 
relationship  consisted  in  his  being  wheeled 
into  her  boudoir  to  see  her  dressed  for  balls. 
He  was  very  undemonstrative  in  his  manner 
towards  her.  He  would  coldly  criticise  her 
gowns  and  her  jewels ;  tell  her  if  she  was  too 
decolletee,  give  her  a  little  worldly  advice  as 
to  behavior,  and  then  be  wheeled  out  again  by 
his  valet.  But  I  think  there  was  a  much 
deeper  influence,  and  a  much  more  unfortu 
nate  one;  his  was  a  very  brilliant  mind,  and 
influenced  hers.  I  think  he  gave  her  false 
ideas  of  life.  It  was  all  very  unnatural.  She 
was  too  young  to  be  fed  upon  the  mental 
pabulum  which  suited  a  man  of  his  years  and 
intellect.  He  was  a  man  of  no  religion.  His 
principal  recreation  from  his  literary  pursuits, 
to  which  he  dedicated  the  greater  part  of  his 
hours,  was  cards*  He  used  to  have  his  friends 
every  afternoon,  Sundays  included,  and  they 
passed  all  the  late  afternoons  at  play.  I  am 
very  old-fashioned ;  I  think  such  things  quite 
wicked  and  dreadful.  Yet  I  am  told  that  his 


A  DIPLOMAT' '&  DIARY  105 

crippled  condition  was  owing  to  an  injury  to 
his  spine  sustained  when  he  saved  the  lives  of 
some  children  from  a  fire  at  a  summer  water 
ing-place.  So  evidently  the  man  had  fine 
traits  of  character.  One  must  not  he  too 
harsh."  Mrs.  North  sighed. 

"  He  was  certainly  an  agreeable  companion, 
a  thorough  man  of  the  world,  polished  as 
steel.  I  must  admit  that  he  placed  Daphne  in 
a  splendid  position,  and  she  never  would  hear 
one  word.  She  revered  his  cleverness,  and 
thought  him  the  very  embodiment  of  honor. 
Of  course  she  had  imagined  an  act  of  ro 
mantic  heroism  in  sacrificing  herself  for  her 
family.  Young  girls  have  these  silly  fancies. 
When  it  was  not  appreciated  she  felt  bitterly 
towards  them,  and  it  took  some  time  for  the 
breach  to  heal.  But,  as  I  say,  we  all  have  a 
worldly  side.  I  may  do  them  injustice,  but  I 
think  Daphne's  success  dazzled  them  at  last, 
and  had  much  to  do  with  the  final  recbncilia 
tion  which  they  earnestly  sought.  Her  life 
certainly  did  not  look  a  failure.  He  gave  her 
absolute  liberty." 


106  -A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

I  listened  breathlessly,  in  momentary  dread 
of  interruption. 

"  There  is  not  much  more  to  tell.  He  died 
three  years  ago.  She  is  very  rich.  I  admire 
Daphne  excessively.  I  think  her  most  attrac 
tive.  She  entirely  fascinates  me.  I  am  not 
sure  that  I  love  her.  I  should  rather  pity  any 
man  who  did."  Here  Mrs.  North  stopped 
short  with  a  little  nervous  laughter,  and  there 
was  a  pause.  Did  its  pulsations  hold  a  warn 
ing  ?  After  a  moment  she  continued : 

"  I  hope  she  will  find  happiness.  She  has 
had  what  the  world  calls  luck,  but  we  women 
know  the  difference.  I  hope  she  will  marry." 

"  Who  would  dare  ?"  I  murmured. 

"  Ah !"  she  replied ;  "  some  very  simple  per 
son  with  no  theories  about  her,  with  no  intri 
cacies;  that  would  be  the  best.  Some  good 
practical  American,  I  hope.  They,  after  all, 
understand  their  own  women  the  best." 

"  Few  men  of  any  nation,"  I  replied,  some 
what  nettled,  I  know  not  why,  "  could  boast 
of  fathoming  such  a  nature." 

"  Yes,  she  is  difficult  to  read.    It  would  be 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIART  1Q7 

better  for  the  man  not  to  try  ;  only  to  give  her 
affection,  a  lot  of  affection,  and  not  attempt  to 
control  her.    You  foreigners,"  she  went  on, 
smiling,  "  are  neglectful  when  you  don't  love, 
and  far  too  exacting  when  you  do." 
"  I  should  be  very  exacting.'* 
"I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  North. 
"  I  think  the  man  should  be  the  head,  should 


"  Ah  !  We  should  call  that  old-fashioned. 
We  American  women  are  progressive  and 
entettes*"  And  then  a  silence  fell  between  us,  a 
somewhat  awkward  one.  It  was  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Acton. 

As  she  tripped  across  the  threshold  the 
words,  "  He  gave  her  entire  liberty,"  were  still 
ringing  in  my  ears.  "  Liberty  ?"  Yes  ;  what 
had  she  done  with  it  ?  I  asked  myself. 

Notwithstanding  her  aunt's  suggestion  that 
from  her  character  surprises  might  be  antici 
pated,  when  I  looked  up  at  her  I  felt  a  pang 
of  disappointment.  What  had  I  expected? 
But  yesterday  I  had  heard  her  sing  a  song  that 
had  put  fire  in  my  veins.  Then  she  had  lifted 


108  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

the  curtain  and  stood  before  me  a  woman  of 
marble.  To-day  I  fain  would  have  seen  on 
her  young  forehead  the  crown  of  sacrifice  of 
which  I  had  been  told,  whose  innocent  sub 
limity  had  profoundly  moved  me.  I  would 
have  liked  to  see  the  traces  of  tears  on  her 
young  face  and  its  memories  in  her  eyes. 
Instead  of  this,  by  one  of  those  tricks  fate 
loves  to  play  on  us,  she  never  appeared  to  me 
less  .  .  .  intricate,  if  I  may  so  express  myself. 
She  stepped  in  lightly,  her  only  laurels  the 
charming  coquetry  with  which  she  had  wound 
a  soft  bashlik,  embroidered  and  tasselled  with 
gold,  low  about  her  hair.  Her  simple  dark 
costume  gave  her  a  peculiarly  girlish  appear 
ance,  and  she  seemed  in  excellent  spirits,  and 
more  engrossed  with  the  practical  details  of 
our  excursion  than  with  matters  of  deeper 
sentiment.  I  almost  hated  her  for  her  gayety. 
Was  it  possible,  I  asked  myself,  that  all  these 
things  about  her  could  be  true !  My  only  con 
solation  was  that  she  wore  my  lilies  at  her 
bosom.  But  I  was  so  agitated  by  all  that  I 
had  heard,  and  there  seemed  so  little  rapport 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  1Q9 

between  my  present  mood  and  her  own,  that  I 
felt  no  courage  to  approach  and  thank  her  for 
this  piece  of  sweet  feminine  flattery.  Just  then 
came  a  rustle  of  skirts  and  sound  of  voices,  and 
a  bevy  of  pretty  women  fluttered  in,  followed 
by  a  half-dozen  men  or  so.  Suwaroff,  Berg, 
the  Princesse  Soltikoff,  little  Madame  Wassilii, 
and  others.  Just  before  we  took  our  places  in 
the  troikas,  Mrs.  North  managed  to  whisper  a 
word  to  me : 

"You  may  be  surprised,  monsieur,  that  I 
should  have  spoken  to  you,  an  entire  stranger, 
on  these  family  matters.  "We  Americans  are 
not  prone  to  be  expansive.  It  is  not  a  national 
trait,  but  I  did  not  know  what  stories  you 
might  hear.  Mrs.  Acton's  marriage  created 
much  comment  at  the  time.  She  has  not  lived 
in  a  corner,  and  the  world  is  very  small.  I 
only  wished  you  to  know  what  all  may  know. 
You  have  from  the  first  inspired  me  with  con 
fidence  ;  I  hear  golden  opinions  of  you ;  am 
glad  to  welcome  you  to  our  house.  I  feel  that 
you  will  not  misjudge  me." 

I  could  only  press  her  hand  warmly  and 
10 


HO  A  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

thank  her  for  her  goodness  and  her  faith  in 
me,  assuring  her  never  to  give  her  cause  of 
regret.  To  myself  this  seemed  suddenly  to 
loom  up  into  a  sacred  pledge,  with  responsi 
bilities  which  made  me  a  trifle  uneasy. 

I  had  hardly  realized  my  happiness,  when 
I  found  Mrs.  Acton  was  beside  me.  In  the 
narrow  vehicles  into  which  the  party  was 
somewhat  overcrowded  we  were  forced  into 
close  proximity.  Nothing  can  ever  paint  the 
delirium  of  that  drive.  I  hardly  know  what 
occurred.  We  stopped  at  the  Ice  Palace,  and 
she  and  I  and  the  others — were  there  others  ? — 
wandered  into  its  cold  spaces.  I  told  her  the 
story  of  the  thoughtless  courtiers  who  locked 
up  one  of  their  number,  with  his  bride,  to  pass 
the  ^night  in  its  white  chambers,  and  who,  in 
the  morning  hours,  found  the  prisoners  dead 
and  stiff.  "I  have  always  thought,"  I  said, 
"that  young  man  must  have  been  strangely 
lacking  in  ardor."  Like  a  child,  Mrs.  Acton 
wished  to  be  drawn  by  the  reindeer  across  the 
palace  grounds,  and,  reclining  on  furs  on  the 
low  sledges,  our  party  was  carried  about  and 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

around  this  fairy  castle.  I  only  know  I  was 
forced  to  hold  her  once  liy  one  of  her  delicate 
wrists,  for  fear  she  should  slip  off  into  the  snow 
drifts.  Afterwards  in  the  troika  once  more, 
borne  away  again,  as  if  into  untried  regions, 
untasted  sensations,  unexplored  worlds,  away 
to  the  Islands,  through  the  windless  night. 
Oh,  never-to-be-forgotten  excursion ! 

Coming  home  late,  when  the  dance,  the 
supper,  the  music  were  all  over,  I  almost  held 
her  in  my  arms  in  the  soft  balancement  of 
the  rushing  sleigh.  I  imagined  that  I  could 
feel  her  heart-pulses;  I  was  very  careful  not 
to  offend,  fearful  as  always  of  incurring  her 
displeasure.  She  did  not  herself  know  how 
close  she  was  to  me.  Once  my  spur  became 
entangled  in  her  skirt.  I  stooped  with  un 
gloved  hand  to  disentangle  it.  She  had  her 
self  taken  off  her  glove  to  readjust  a  lock  of 
recreant  hair  fluttering  from  beneath  her  veil 
I  handed  her  her  muff,  lost  in  the  movement. 
Our  fingers  met,  clung  one  instant  together. 
Can  such  a  shock  send  forth  no  responding 
vibration  ?  Is  it  possible  that  what  I  felt  was 


112  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

wholly  unshared?  I  know  not,  but  this  I 
know  :  twice  she  placed  me  beside  her  in  tho 
troika.  Only  once  during  that  blissful  night 
there  fell  a  shadow  between  us :  as  I  looked 
down  at  her  lovely  face,  framed  in  its  high  for 
collar,  nestling  so  close  to  mine,  she  asked  me 
who  I  should  dance  with  at  the  coming  ball. 

"  Mademoiselle  Taillefere,"  I  answered, 
"  whom  I  engaged  for  the  cotillon  long  before 
I  ever  met  you,  madame." 

"  Ah !"  she  said ;  "  I  have  not  seen  her.  la 
she  .  .  .  very  nice  ?" 

"  She  does  not  particularly  interest  me,"  I 
replied. 

"  Why  did  you  choose  her,  then  ?"  she  con 
tinued,  with  childlike  insistence. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  I  answered,  carelessly. 
"  Probably  because  she  has  a  beautiful  figure." 

It  was  a  stupid  speech,  uttered  without 
thought,  for  my  blood  was  in  my  brain.  I 
noticed  that  she  drew  away  a  little,  and  de 
voted  herself  at  least  twenty  minutes  to  Berg, 
who  sat  at  her  right.  I  am  not  conceited  by 
nature,  and  racked  my  mind  to  imagine  why 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  H3 

• 

she  had  grown  so  silent  towards  me.  It  was 
only  afterwards,  upon  reflection,  that  I  thought 
perhaps  she  had  not  liked  what  I  had  said. 
I  cursed  Mademoiselle  Taillefere,  my  dulness 
of  perception,  and  the  vulgarity  of  the  remark 
which  had  lost  me  a  moment  of  those  precious 
hours.  But  if  it  were  true  that  the  words 
really  hurt  her, — if  it  were  true,  if  it  were 
true,  what  a  world  of  ecstasy  this  has  become ! 

While  she  leaned  towards  Berg  I  looked  at 
her,  and  I  understood  well  that  one  might 
sacrifice  everything  to  be  loved  by  her,  to 
awaken  and  warm  this  proud,  delicate  crea 
ture  with  the  fires  of  passion.  For  this  I  felt 
that  one  would  throw  duty,  life,  nay,  honor 
itself,  to  the  winds.  Yes,  I,  who  have  lived 
so  long  for  ambition  only,  felt  as  if  to  possess 
her  for  an  hour  I  would  follow  her  like  a  dog 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  casting  my  career 
and  my  hopes  behind  me. 

After  our  hands  had  touched  she  came  back 

to  me,  the  geliebte,  but  nevertheless  there  was 

a  subtle  change  in  her  attitude  towards  me, 

and  her  manner,  which  had  been   once   or 

h  10*  * 


114  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

twice  divinely  coquettish,  was  tinged  with  a 
fine  hauteur.  I  longed  to  tell  her  how  much  I 
loved  her,  but  something  held  me  hack  and 
paralyzed  my  tongue,  and  she  was,  I  thought, 
tacitly  grateful  to  me  for  my  reserve.  At  any 
rate,  I  shall  take  an  early  opportunity  to  ex 
plain  to  her  how  I  loathe  Mademoiselle  Taille- 
fere,  who  is  very  plain,  and  even  ill-shapen, 
for  so  I  consider  her  beside  my  goddess. 

February  1. — My  intoxication  has  fallen! 
To-night  I  look  into  the  future.  What  does 
it  hold?  To  pass  one's  life  beside  such  a 
being,  to  leave  to  her  delicate  tact  the  man 
agement  of  all  social  intricacies,  to  sleep  and 
wake  and  know  one's  self  so  safe,  with  time 
for  serious  work,  while  she  watched  near,  hex 
voice,  her  step,  her  song  in  one's  ears, — what 
a  heaven !  Yet  something  says  to  me,  "  She 
is  not  for  thee."  I  know  that  I  love  her, 
because  I  am  profoundly  miserable.  To  real 
ize  that  she  is  in  Petersburg,  so  near  me,  and 
that  I  cannot  always  be  with  her,  cannot  fall 
at  her  feet,  cannot  hold  her  in  my  arms,— 
what  anguish ! 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  H5 

I  shall  see  her  to-night  at  the  Odoiefiskys* 
and  adore  her  at  a  distance;  shall  see  her 
officially,  surrounded  by  others,  by  younger, 
handsomer  fellows,  these  dashing  young  Rus 
sian  officers,  the  pampered  darlings  of  the 
women,  far  better  fitted  than  I  to  touch  and 
fascinate  her  imagination.  How  old  and 
weary  and  bassanb  my  face  looks  near  her  fair 
fresh  one!  The  battle-fields  have  left  their 
traces.  Humph!  Women  love  youth.  Ah, 
Daphne,  I  am  to-day  only  a  tired  old  war- 
horse,  whom  it  would  be  a  mercy  to  put  out 
of  his  pain !  Give  me  the  death-thrust,  dear, 
before  you  leave  me!  for — you  will  leave 
me  ...  I  feel  it.  Such  bliss  as  love  of  yours 
is  not  for  me.  I  am  too  much  stained  with 
living,  with  the  smoke  of  battle  and  the  fires 
of  the  world.  Your  love  would  be  as  a  stream 
of  pure  water  in  which  to  lave  soiled  gar 
ments  ;  it  would  refresh,  rejuvenate,  purify  an 
unworthy  past.  When  I  am  near  her,  youth 
returns,  and  romance.  I  grow  pure.  I  trem 
ble.  I  could  weep.  "Why  has  she  roused 
this  longing  to  hold  her  close,  to  fold  her  to 


116      .  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

myself,  if  it  is  never  to  be  gratified  ?  I  am 
devoured  with  unrest ! 

The  women  are  jealous  of  her.  This  after 
noon  they  gossiped  about  her  over  their  tea- 
tables.  These  women,  who  have  had  lovers 
by  the  score,  dared  to  criticise  my  darling ! 
Odoieffsky,  the  beast,  had  tattled  of  her.  He 
said  to  her,  "I  saw  you  at  the  opera,  ma- 
dame." 

"  Yes,"  she  had  replied,  "  I  observed  it." 

"  I  am  desolated,  madame,  if  my  admiration 
of  you  was  too  pronounced,  if  I  looked  at  you 
too  constantly." 

"  Oh,  pray  don't  distress  yourself,  monsieur," 
she  had  replied.  "  It  is  quite  unnecessary. 
That  is  what  I  go  out  for." 

Everybody  was  shocked.  The  men  winked 
at  one  another  and  shrugged  their  shoulders. 
The  women  exclaimed,  "Les  Amtricaines  sont  & 
un  id  point  mal  ttev&es  !  "What !  they  are  with 
out  shame !"  and  rolled  up  their  eyes,  duly 
scandalized,  until  the  whites  appeared. 

A  shrill  voice  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  "Who  knows  ?    Perhaps  it  was  exaggerated. 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  .  H7 

She  might  not  have  said  such  a  thing.  If  she 
did  it  was  certainly  atroce." 

But  I  knew  that  she  had  said  it,  because  it 
was  exactly  like  her,  angel  that  she  is,  and  a 
flood  of  passionate  loyalty  rose  to  my  lips,  and 
a  flush  overspread  my  entire  face,  for  which  I 
cursed  myself  inwardly. 

"  Do  you  think  that  she  really  said  it?"  per 
sisted  the  last  speaker,  turning  to  me.  "  You 
know  her  very  well,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  sure  that  she  did, 
madame,  and  it  would  be  as  difficult  to  defend 
her  as  it  is  impossible  to  imitate  her." 

There  was  an  embarrassing  moment  of 
silence,  for  my  tone  had  a  ring  that  the  ladiea 
did  not  relish.  There  was  a  murmur,  and 
some  dagger-glances. 

"  Men  admire  these  oddities,"  said  Madame 
Wassilii,  with  elevated  eyebrow. 

"  Yes,  madame,  they  do,  for  to  be  with  an 
enchantress  like  Mrs.  Acton  is  as  if  one  should 
turn  from  listening  to  the  screaming  chatter 
of  little  tame  popinjays  to  watch  the  evolutions 
of  some  splendid  wild  white  sea-bird." 


118  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

"  All !  il  est  pris  !"  cried  the  women,  in  sharp 
concerto.  "  Pinc&  /"  And  I  became  the  target 
for  their  pitilesa  raillery,  not  untinged  with 
resentment. 

I  did  manage  with  certain  artifices  of  gal 
lantry,  not  unnecessarily  learned  in  my  career, 
to  patch  up  some  sort  of  a  peace  with  my 
persecutors,  and  to  extricate  myself  from  an 
awkward  position.  I  had  shown  too  much 
heat,  and  had  been  perhaps  unwise.  I  mar 
velled  at  the  temerity  with  which  I  had  spoken, 
but  had  I  not  done  so  I  should  have  suffocated. 
Daphne  is  original ;  it  is  a  crime  that  her  sex 
never  pardons. 

A  splendid  ball  at  the  Odoieffskys',  utterly 
wretched  to  me,  for  ...  she  did  not  come. 
People  said  it  was  a  brilliant  affair.  Madame 
Odoieffsky  in  white  velvet,  and  resplendent 
with  all  her  diamonds;  Odoieflsky  himself 
very  handsome  in  his  Cossack  uniform,  with 
its  cartridge  case  of  niello  silver  at  his  belt.  I 
could  have,  throttled  him  for  having  babbled 
of  Daphne.  Sitting  on  the  stairs,  amid  all  the 
throng  of  gay  people,  was  the  little  paralyzed 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  H9 

<son  of  the  house,  his  rich  velvet  dress  and 
white  lace  ruffles  contrasting  strangely  with 
his  poor  pinched  face,  the  lips  drawn  away  on 
one  side  from  the  teeth  in  that  terrible  set 
smile.  They  have  grown  accustomed  to  him. 
They  do  not  realize  how  he  appears  to 
strangers.  His  big  bony  head,  with  its  scant 
hair  and  livid  skin,  prominent  nose,  and  beau 
tiful,  lustrous  eyes,  full  of  a  sort  of  restless 
pathos,  set  upon  attenuated  little  shoulders, 
filled  me  with  sympathy  and  pain.  They 
grant  him  all  his  whims,  and  he  had  insisted 
on  seeing  the  ball  from  this  particular  perch. 
Elegant  women  leaned  lightly  to  him,  and 
threw  him  a  smile  as  they  passed  up  and  down, 
inwardly  shuddering,  and  thanking  God  for 
their  ruddy  little  ones  at  home. 

As  the  ball  grew,  however,  and  after  the 
Mazurka  began,  little  Feodor  was  almost  for 
gotten.  I  thought  that  he  and  I  were  the 
most  lonely  and  miserable  people  present,  for 
I  had  grown  hall-sick  with  waiting.  So  I 
carried  the  child  some  sweets  from  the  supper, 
and  I  showed  him  my  sword,  and  I  explained 


120  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

and  told  Mm  stories  about  all  of  my  decorations. 
The  only  moments  of  peace  that  I  found  were 
at  the  side  of  this  unfortunate  boy.  The  pity 
that  I  felt  for  his  misfortunes  seemed  to  alle 
viate  my  own  suffering. 

Life  holds  three  phases, — that  of  hope,  that 
of  revolt,  and  that  of  philosophy.  I  have 
reached  the  age  of  the  latter,  but  it  is  not  yet 
fully  my  own.  Why  did  she  not  come  ?  and 
what  is  she  ?  A  woman  worthy  of  my  adora 
tion,  or  a  cold  coquette,  playing  with  me  for 
her  amusement  ?  "What  is  she  ?  I  must  know, 
and  she  shall  tell  me  herself,  yes,  to-morrow  ! 
Perhaps  then  I  shall  not  feel  so  separated  from 
her,  so  far.  What  long  years  behind  us  both 
we  wot  not  of!  She  looks  to  me  like  a  woman 
of  inexorable  will.  How  much  of  mine  would 
it  need  to  win  her?  Ah,  I  would  not  hurt 
you,  dear !  One  feels  that  love  is  her  essence. 
Ariadne's  thread  would  guide  her  step  by  step 
through  the  obscure  labyrinths  in  which  I 
would  soon  lose  my  way  and  my  reason.  The 
sensibilities  of  these  frail  creatures  are  more 
quick  than  ours,  but  are  they  as  profound? 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

What  breaks  and  mars  a  man's  heart  passes 
over  a  woman's  like  a  breeze  of  spring-time.  It 
is  easy  to  shake  the  dew  from  a  rose,  but  the 
old  oak's  bark  must  be  torn  and  broken  to 
give  out  a  drop  of  the  sap  which  lends  it  force. 

February  2. — I  have  seen  her  alone,  and  we 
have  had  a  serious  explanation,  or,  rather,  I 
poured  out  myself  and  told  her  something  of 
my  own  past.  Later  I  begged  her  to  talk  to 
me  of  her  own  life. 

"  My  own  life  was  too  much  bound  up  with 
that  of  others,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  speak 
of  it." 

"What  must  you  think  of  me,  then,"  1 
said,  "  who  have  bared  so  much  of  my  soul 
to  you  ?  Have  I  been  too  frank  ?" 

"Ah,  that  would  be  so  nice,"  she  said, 
playfully,  "to  find  that  you  could  be  indis 
creet  or  unwise,  for  they  say  you  are  so  clever 
and  strong.  I  am  a  true  woman,  and  it  would 
be  delicious  to  me  to  find  a  weak  spot  in  my 
knight's  armor." 

That  is  all  the  comfort  I  got. 

"Ah!"  I  said;  "the  tears  which  fell  from 

F  11 


122  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

your  eyes  the  other  day  were  more  eloquent 
than  any  words  those  mobile  lips  can  speak." 

Then  she  admitted  shyly,  like  a  young 
girl,  that  the  only  man  she  had  met  was  .  .  . 
myself.  I  fell  at  her  feet;  she  bade  me 
rise,  and  said,  "  What  folly !"  but  she  did  not 
send  me  away.  She  is  a  most  fascinating 
woman. 

February  3. — I  have  always  thought  I 
should  like  to  bear  away  with  me  to  Italy  the 
woman  I  loved;  to  have  her  near  me  under 
hot  and  sunny  skies,  my  beloved,  my  jiancee, 
or  my  bride.  It  is  true  the  thought  of  mar 
riage  has  not  largely  occupied  my  horizons ! 
I  have  always  hated  these  cold  countries. 
Why,  then,  does  their  mysterious  melancholy 
seem  to  suit  and  melt  into  my  present  mood 
and  the  farouche  nature  of  my  love  for  her  ? 
I  am  glad  that  I  have  known  her  here.  I 
would  like  to  carry  Daphne  away,  wrapped 
against  my  bosom,  to  the  granite-bound  lakes 
of  Finland,  to  drink  in  by  her  side  the  acrid 
odors  of  the  pines,  or,  farther  away  still,  to 
the  sombre  steppes  of  Orenbourg;  into  some 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  123 

dim  region  where  the  strife  of  tongues  should 
have  ceased,  and  where  she  alone  would  be  my 
warmth  and  my  sunlight.  With  such  a  one 
as  she,  one  would  want  space  and  solitude. 

"  Enfin  ils  trouverent  un  vaste  champ  ou  on  iiaii 
a  I'aise  et  en  liberte  /" 

I  remember  Borodino,  and  that  long,  dusty 
road  to  Smolensk,  through  which  Napoleon 
passed,  leaving  devastation  behind  him, — that 
theatre  of  glory  and  of  bloody  exploits.  I 
was  there  once,  a  traveller  and  sight-seer, 
wasting  a  few  days'  furlough  on  my  way  to 
Bucharest.  I  stopped  at  the  monastery  Sie- 
mienoffikaia,  and  rested  one  warm  June  night 
by  the  river  Kolotcha.  Why  do  I  think  of 
that  night  now  ?  I  sat  on  the  shore  watching 
the  anxious  turbid  green  waters.  I  was  alone. 
All  was  forgotten, — the  rush  of  the  troops,  the 
cries  of  victorious  armies.  How  still  it  was ! 
Like  death,  like  an  early  death,  on  that  vast 
plain,  the  tomb  of  thousands.  There  was  no 
etir  in  the  dumb  silence  except  that  of  the 
winds  through  the  sad.  willows  and  scraggy 
lindens,  waking  a  distant  echo  of  the  great 


124  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

epic  of  the  century.  Why  this  memory  now  ? 
and  why  would  I  like  to  carry  my  Daphne 
away  with  me  to  the  quiet  shores  of  the  river 
Kolotcha,  where  none  could  follow  us  ? 

Daphne !  What  a  sweet  perfume  about  that 
name !  What  a  pretty  name !  I  never  could 
make  a  D  when  I  was  a  child.  It  is  certainly 
a  difficult  letter.  Bah !  I  am  getting  into  my 
dotage. 

February  9. — How  could  I  write  anything  ? 
I  have  seen  her  constantly.  I  must  collect  my 
thoughts  of  her.  They  press  so  tumultuously. 
After  I  last  wrote  we  visited  one  afternoon 
the  little  Palace  of  Peter  the  Great,  the  Zoo, 
and  the  Church  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  Peter 
Citadel,  mausoleum  of  the  Czars.  We  were 
a  partie  carrte,  the  Princesse  Soltikoff  and 
Berg. 

How  graceful  she  looked,  how  radiant; 
how  tranquil  and  elegant  her  movements, 
how  noble  the  poise  of  her  small  head !  She 
was  delighted  with  the  quaint  little  toy  house 
and  its  big  sentries.  Sitting  opposite  to  her 
in  Madame  Soltikoff's  carriage, — it  was  too 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  125 

bitterly  cold  for  our  sleighs, — I  was  myself  as 
happy  as  a  school-boy.  I  leaned  over  several 
times  and  whispered  to  her,  "  I  love  you !" 
She  blushed,  and  once  she  returned  my 
glance.  As  I  said  before,  to  those  who  have 
never  met  the  gaze  of  this  woman  it  would  be 
impossible  to  explain  its  power.  The  eye  is 
long,  light,  half-closed,  not  very  brilliant  or 
of  decided  hue.  It  is  neither  blue  nor  black 
nor  green  nor  gray,  its  interior  emotions 
alone  seeming  to  make  it  glitter  or  pale.  Its 
habitual  expression  is  one  of  indifference,  or 
of  impenetrable  coldness,  when  it  shrouds  its 
fires.  But  if  it  allow  but  a  spark  to  escape, 
how  shall  one  paint  the  voluptuousness  of 
its  expression  or  the  pang  that  it  pours  into  a 
man's  being  ?  One  becomes  her  slave,  how 
ever  mistrustfully.  Would  any  man  dare  to 
marry  a  woman  with  such  eyes  ? 

Her  mouth,  tempting  and  luscious,  is  more 
telltale.  She  has  a  way  of  leaning  back  with 
half-open  lips.  It  is  quite  impossible  that  she 
realizes  the  effect.  It  would  be  a  cruelty. 

At  the  Zoo  we  made  the  acquaintance  of 
11* 


126  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

monsieur  and  madame  and  the  little  hippo 
potamus.  Also  we  met  some  members  of  the 
Chinsse  legation,  whose  eyeballs  and  pigtails 
seemed  to  tremble  with  pleasure  when  they 
saw  our  fair  companions.  We  were  a  merry 
party,  all  but  Berg,  who  is  hopelessly  ipris  of 
Madame  Acton,  and  does  me  the  honor  to  be 
jealous.  Returning,  we  dismissed  the  carriage 
at  the  bridge,  and  all  walked  home  together 
across  the  Neva  through  the  snow,  and 
thence  skirting  the  quais  into  the  Lietn6  Sadou. 
We  wandered  aimlessly  for  a  while  in  its 
dim  alleys.  All  I  knew  was  that  I  was  near 
her. 

It  is  tacitly  accepted  now  between  us  that  I 
am  devoted  to  her,  and  that  there  are  to  be  no 
further  explanations  at  present;  that  we  are 
to  drift  for  a  while  wherever  the  winds  of  fate 
and  her  wishes  shall  waft  us.  She  desires 
this. 

"Don't  let  us  become  tragic,"  she  said 
to  me.  "  I  rest  upon  your  honor  not  to 
speak  of  your  love  to  me, — not  just  now,  not 
just  now, — later,  later.  Let  us  enjoy  these 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  127 

hours  innocently  and  carelessly  like  chil 
dren." 

She  seems  to  dread  any  decision  or  any 
avowal.  Shall  I  admit  that  there  is  a  certain 
charm  in  the  vagueness  of  the  situation, 
which  certainly  cannot  prolong  itself  for 
many  weeks.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  this 
woman  inspires  me  with  such  timidity,  such 
fear  of  losing  her  altogether,  that  I  obey. 

February  10. — Her  conversation  interests 
me  deeply.  We  were  speaking  of  excursions 
in  the  mountains  of  Switzerland  the  other 
day,  and  she  alluded  to  a  trip  she  had  taken 
into  the  hills  of  her  own  country.  "I  hate 
mountains,"  she  said,  "  except  in  the  distance. 
It  is  not  that  I  lack  the  courage  to  scale  them. 
In  fact,"  she  added,  "  I  have  so  much  of  that 
quality  that  I  have  sometimes  wondered  if  it 
were  not  effrontery." 

I  made  a  gesture  in  deprecation. 

"  Oh,  I  know !"  she  continued,  wilfully 
misunderstanding  me.  "It  is  not  a  virtue 
that  commends  one  to  the  gentlemen.  Well, 
d,  propos  of  the  mountains,  I  am  not  lazy 


128  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

nor  timid,  but  I  only  want  to  look  up  at 
them;  at  the  calm  majesty  of  their  summits 
where  they  mingle  with  the  eternal  skies.  I 
have  always  thought  they  were  just  like  great 
people,  marred  and  disfigured,  when  you  ap 
proach  them,  by  sticks  and  stumps  and  ugly 
stones  over  which  one  trips  and  falls  and 
hurts  one's  self.  Madame  de  Remusat  went 
mountaineering  when  she  gossiped  about 
Napoleon's  weaknesses.  Ah  me!  it  is  only 
to  very  superior  minds  we  dare  show  our 
weakness.  Little  people  like  Madame  de  Re- 
musat  can  only  dwell  upon  the  trifles.  They 
harp  on  the  irregularities  and  the  defects,  and 
they  jump  at  conclusions  about  people's  tone 
of  mind  and  generally  unsound  morale  on 
slight  and  dubious  evidences." 

Another  time  I  spoke  in  scorn  of  wealth. 
"Ah,  my  friend,"  she  said,  "money  means 
freedom,  and  freedom  is  power."  Talking 
of  early  youth,  one  day,  she  said,  "  Youth  is 
the  period  of  disappointments,  and  suffers 
tortures  through  the  fear  of  ridicule.  It  dies 
in  sublime  silence  rather  than  face  adverse 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  129 

criticisms.  "We,"  she  added,  laughingly,  "  my 
friend,  are  at  the  best  and  happiest  age." 

"We?"  I  replied.  "You  are  sarcastic, 
madame.  Why,  I  am  old  enough  to  be  your 
father." 

"You  must  have  been  very  precocious, 
then,  for  I  really  am  a  very  old  person." 

"  Well  preserved,"  I  replied,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  yes,  nice-looking  enough ;  but  I  assure 
you  plain  people  have  one  incalculable  advan 
tage  in  that  they  never  vary,  and  one  always 
knows  exactly  where  to  find  them,  whereas 
the  handsome  ones  manage  at  times  to  look 
surprisingly  hideous." 

She  rose  and  walked  to  the  mirror  and  con 
templated  herself  for  a  moment,  lifting  the 
hair  a  little  which  grows  low  on  her  young  fore 
head, — that  proud  forehead  upon  which  ond 
unconsciously  looks  for  a  diadem. 

"Do  you  think  me  handsome?"  she  said, 
suddenly,  turning  and  facing  me. 

"  Yes." 

"  There  are  quantities  of  things  all  wrong, 
you  know." 


130  -^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

"Yes,  I  have  remarked  it.  Nature  has 
been  indeed  most  niggardly,  and  I  pity  you 
for  your  unfortunate  appearance  and  myself 
for  my  bad  taste." 

"  My  husband,  Mr.  Acton,  used  to  say  there 
was  no  real  beauty,  only  a  very  good  .  .  . 
effect." 

The  words  seemed  to  escape  her  involun 
tarily.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever 
mentioned  her  husband  to  me.  I  grew  silent. 

"How  stern  your  face  becomes  at  times," 
she  said,  laughing.  "  You  look  ready  to  com 
mit  some  dreadful  crime." 

She  can  jest  with  a  dead  man's  name  on  her 
lips,  I  thought  to  myself,  with  a  sudden  pain. 
Has  she  no  heart  ?  And  yet  her  lips  are  full 
of  fascination  and  of  truth. 

February  12. — By  appointment  I  walked 
this  morning  in  the  Lieini  Sadou  with  Mrs. 
Acton.  "  Take  me  for  a  walk !"  she  had  said 
to  me  the  day  before.  I  dismissed  my  sleigh 
at  the  gate  and  entered  between  the  sentinels. 
The  alleys  were  deserted  except  for  the  distant 
bent  figure  of  Gen.  Z.,  who  exercises  his  old 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  131 

blind  dog  here  every  morning,  the  only  dog 
ever  admitted  into  these  quiet  precincts. 

"  What  will  you  have  ?"  the  Czar  asked  of 
the  gallant  officer,  when  he  came  back  cov 
ered  with  glory  from  his  battle-fields. 

"  Your  Majesty,"  he  replied,  "  don't  separate 
me  from  -my  faithful  Sachs  when  I  take  my 
walk  every  morning  in  the  Summer  Garden." 

"  Your  wish  shall  be  a  law,"  said  the  grate 
ful  sovereign,  so  every  day  at  eleven  precisely 
the  sentries  salute  the  master  and  his  decrepit 
companion. 

The  guns  from  the  fortress  were  popping 
away  in  commemoration,  no  doubt,  of  some 
fete  day  I  knew  nothing  about.  To  my  ear 
there  is  always  something  peculiarly  exhila 
rating  in  the  sound  of  artillery,  albeit  this  was 
somewhat  too  distant  to  whip  up  my  blood  to 
pleasant  heat.  But  woman  takes  the  place  of 
battle  in  my  to-day,  and  the  delicious  expecta 
tion  of  her  kept  me  warm  in  the  biting  air. 
In  a  moment  I  heard  her  footstep  crunching 
the  snow,  and  bright  with  the  morning  she 
stood  before  me  under  the  bare  white  trees. 


132  ^  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

"  I  sent  the  sleigh  and  chasseur  to  the  quais" 
she  said,  "  so  we  have  plenty  of  time  to  ex 
plore  this  charming  place.  Oh,  monsieur,  I 
love  it!" 

I  kissed  her  gloved  hand,  drawn  a  moment 
from  her  great  muff.  It  is  a  strong  hand.  I 
dreamed  last  night  I  was  holding  her  hands 
against  my  breast.  They  felt  so  cool.  The 
points  of  the  fingers  seemed  to  be  wandering 
over  my  heart.  When  I  awoke  I  was  con 
scious  of  a  peculiar  delightful  physical  sensa 
tion,  a  bien-$tre,  which  has  clung  to  me  ever 
since.  It  was  a  sweet  dream.  God!  how 
beautiful  women  are ! 

To  return  to  Daphne.  "We  had  not  walked 
many  steps  when  Miss  Xavier  and  her  maid 
loomed  suddenly  before  us.  She  bowed,  staring 
a  little  with  her  near-sighted  eyes.  A  few 
rods  farther  we  crossed  the  path  of  the  Prin- 
cesse  SoltikofFs  young  daughter  Dina  and  her 
governess.  The  child  was  rosy  and  happy; 
she  skipped  and  capered  about  on  the  un- 
shovelled  snow-drifts  which  were  piled  up 
against  the  mysterious  forms  of  the  covered 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  133 

statues.  Full  of  animal  spirits,  she  called  out 
after  me,  "  Monsieur,  monsieur,  quand  venez-vous 
patiner  avec  moi  a  la  Tauride?  Come  Thurs 
day!  Come  Thursday!  There  will  be  a 
quadrille  on  the  ice,  music,  and  I  am  going 
to  dance !" 

The  governess  muttered  a  hasty  excuse  and 
reproved  her  charge  sharply  for  inconvenance, 
seizing  her  roughly  by  the  shoulders,  over 
which  hung  a  quantity  of  rich  auburn  curls. 

"  Why,  what  has  the  poor  little  thing  done 
that  was  so  dreadful  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Acton. 

"  Addressed  a  man  first,  before  he  spoke  to 
her,"  I  replied. 

"  Since  when  has  that  been  criminal  ?" 

"  Young  girls  here  are  kept  very  strictly." 

"  She  is  a  pretty  child.  The  Princess  has 
not  yet  shown  me  her  children." 

"  Are  you  fond  of  children  ?" 

"No,  I  dislike  them.  But  I  do  love  very 
much  one  little  child." 

"And  what  little  child  is  that?" 

"  My  sister's  boy." 

«  Happy  little  boy !" 

12 


134  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

After  a  short  silence  she  said  to  me,  reflec 
tively,  "Am  I  indiscreet  to  walk  with  you. 
here  alone  ?" 

"  If  you  were  a  resident,  possibly.  Being  a 
stranger  and  a  traveller,  much  is  overlooked." 
J  was  going  to  say  "  an  American,"  but  fortu 
nately  checked  myself. 

"  Ah  !"    Mrs.  Acton  grew  a  little  haughty. 

"  This  is  of  course  a  perfectly  proper  place 
for  a  promenade, — the  most  elegant,  in  fact, 
which  Petersburg  offers.  Believe  me  I  should 
never  have  engaged  you  to  do  anything  com 
promising." 

"  Compromising !" 

Shall  I  admit  the  exclamation  was  not  ut 
tered  quite  gently  ?    "  Fancy,"  she  added,  after 
a  moment's  pause,  "  my  doing  anything  .  . 
compromising !" 

I  felt  we  were  treading  on  dangerous  ground 
and  hastened  to  distract  her  thoughts.  "  You 
came  promptly,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  how 
much  I  admire  you  for  this.  Some  women 
seem  to  think  that  to  keep  a  man  hanging 
about  for  an  hour  in  Siberian  winter  weather 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  135 

adds  to  their  attractions.  If  they  only  knew 
men  better !  But  you,  my  fair  American 
princess,  have  no  need  of  such  vulgar  arts. 
You  arrive  when  you  promise,  tranquil  and 
fresh,  with  no  excuse  on  your  lips,  or  hurry 
in  your  gait.  So  must  goddesses  have  come 
when  they  descended  to  mortals.  Where  have 
you  learned  what  a  man  likes  best  ?" 

"I  have  always  dared  to  be  ...  myself," 
she  answered,  with  evident  pleasure  at  my 
flattery. 

"  And  who  and  what  are  you  ?" 

"  Ah !  that  too  is  mine  to  keep.  Why  .  .  . 
do  you  ever  think  ill  of  me  ?" 

"  Sometimes." 
'  "  And  what  do  you  think  ?" 

"  Before  I  reply  to  that  question  much  more 
time  must  be  given  me  to  ponder  the  riddle 
that  you  are." 

"  Am  I  a  riddle  ?    That  delights  me." 

"  Yes,  and  I  must  not  only  solve  it,  but  I 
must  find  out  too  what  the  riddle  thinks  of 
me ;  where  I  stand." 

"  That  I  shall  not  divulge." 


136  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

"  Yet  you  have  come  no  doubt  to  some  con 
clusions  about  me  ?" 

'«  To  all." 

"  Your  opinion  is  made  up  ?" 

"  Absolutely." 

"  And  you  leave  me  in  darkness  ?" 

"  Quite." 

"Is  that  kind?" 

"  Perhaps." 

"Ah!"  I  said,  sadly,  "you  have  betrayed 
yourself.  I  know  now  I  do  not  stand  well  in 
your  estimation." 

We  had  approached  the  little  tea-house  of 
the  late  Czar,  where  he  used  to  come  and  drink 
fragrant  chay,  and  rest,  away  from  labors  of 
state  and  boresome  etiquette.  Who  knows? 
to  chat  perhaps  with  the  woman  who  for  so 
many  years  ruled  his  fate.  It  was  now  melan 
choly  and  deserted.  The  royal  servants  who 
are  delegated  to  keep  it  always  as  it  was  in  the 
days  of  its  august  owner  were  either  asleep  or 
neglectful.  The  rooms,  as  far  as  we  could  see 
through  the  thick  coating  of  ice  which  en 
crusted  the  windows,  were  deserted,  empty, 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  137 

and  forlorn.  Daphne  placed  her  lips  to  one 
of  the  panes  and  breathed  upon  it  to  melt  the 
frost.  "  I  want  to  look  in,"  she  said. 

I  am  afraid  I  seized  this  opportunity  to  stand 
very  close  to  her,  our  shubas  touching  each 
other,  my  sword  against  her  skirts.  She  gave 
a  little  low  cry.  "  Oh,  but  it  is  cold !"  she 
said,  and  drew  back  quickly.  I  approached 
my  own  lips  to  drink  in,  with  strange  avidity, 
what  perfume  might  remain  of  her  breath  upon 
the  icy  glass.  It  seemed  to  my  fancy  still  hot 
from  her  contact.  A  vertigo  seized  me.  I 
reeled  slightly  and  covered  my  eyes  for  a 
moment  with  one  of  my  hands.  When  I  re 
covered  my  reason  she  was  looking  at  me 
fixedly ;  her  face  was  pale. 

"My  friend,"  she  said,  "you  asked  me  just 
now  how  you  stood  with  me.  Some  day  I  will 
tell  you,  but  not  now,  not  now.  I  implore 
you,  I  implore  you,  let  us  be  happy  a  few  short 
hours,  a  few  short  days,  and  let  the — let  the — " 
she  faltered  a  moment — "  let  the  flesh  be  in 
abeyance.  Of  it  are  born  all  love's  woes,  ex 
actions,  tyrannies,  jealousies.  Stifle  it,  stifle 

12* 


138  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

it,  and  forgive  the  evil  in  me  which  tenmts 
you!" 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  me  with  a  sweet 
womanly  gesture,  so  frank  and  appealing  that 
I  could  not  doubt  its  sincerity.  I  folded  it 
warmly  in  my  own. 

"  Angel  or  sorceress,"  I  said,  "  it  is  not  you, 
then,  that  I  will  try  to  vanquish,  but  myself 
You  tell  me  nothing,  you  vaguely  hint  at  some 
barrier  between  us ;  if  it  be,  as  I  believe,  of 
your  own  making,  you  alone  can  remove  it. 
I  will  bide  your  own  time,  I  will  be  patient, 
yet  do  not  try  me  too  far,  for  I  am  only  a  man 
after  all." 

She  looked  at  me  gratefully.  "  This  is  a 
compact,  then  ?"  she  said,  more  lightly. 

I  tried  after  this  to  keep  within  the  bounds  of 
strict  reserve,  but  I  must  confess  the  task  rather 
overtops  my  powers.  At  the  quais  we  met  the 
sleigh  and  Alexei,  but  it  was  still  early,  and 
Madame  Acton  declared  that  she  enjoyed  the 
exercise  and  would  prefer  to  walk  home. 

An  incident  occurred  during  this  homeward 
walk  which  struck  me  disagreeably.  Before 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  139 

fully  realizing  the  fact  I  found  \ve  were  ap 
preaching  the  famous  yacht  club.     I  suggested 
to  Mrs.  Acton  the  propriety  of  taking  some 
other  street  or  retracing  our  steps. 

"  I  cannot  imagine  why,"  she  said. 

"  It  is  an  unpleasant  areopagus  for  a  lady  to 
pass.  All  the  diplomatic  co^ps  and  young 
guardsmen  are  there  ir  the  morning,  and  you 
will  not  like  to  ran  the  blockade  of  their  silly 
and  often  indecent  jests." 

"  Indecent !"  She  said  it  in  a  good  deal  the 
same  tone  with  which  she  had  uttered  the  one 
word  "  compromising,"  and  a  certain  hardness 
came  over  her  fair  visage.  "I  think  I  can 
stand  these  gentlemen,"  she  continued.  "  My 
actions  can  bear  the  light.  Come,  mon  ami, 
we  will  not  retreat  before  the  enemy !" 

"  As  you  like,"  I  replied,  a  little  coldly,  for 
I  was  secretly  vexed  at  what  I  considered  a 
piece  of  childish  obstinacy.  The  words  were 
hardly  uttered  before  a  party  of  young  men, 
talking  loudly  and  smoking  their  cigarettes, 
came  striding  forth  from  out  of  the  club.  The 
sidewalk  was  encumbered  with  some  boxes, 


140  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

over  which  a  couple  of  tradesmen  were  dis 
puting  with  many  Russian  expletives,  and 
these  young  officers  had  to  scatter  to  let  me 
and  my  companion  pass.  In  fact,  for  a  moment 
we  were  surrounded  by  them.  Men  of  fashion 
of  our  time  are  not  remarkable  either  for  their 
timidity  or  their  chivalry.  Those  whom  I 
knew  gave  me  a  military  salute.  One  or  two 
had  met  or  seen  Mrs.  Acton,  and  bowed  low  as 
she  passed  with  her  usual  easy  grace.  A  good 
deal  of  bold  staring  was  indulged  in,  however, 
and  I  heard  "  Tiens  I  a-t-il  de  la  chance  avec  sa 
jolie  Americaine,  le  malin  !" 

"  II  nous  devance,  mon  cher." 

Extremely  annoyed,  I  hurried  to  join 
Mrs.  Acton,  expecting  to  see  displeasure  de 
picted  upon  her  face.  Imagine  my  surprise 
when  I  only  found  there  an  expression  of  great 
satisfaction.  "  I  said  I  would  do  it,"  she  cried, 
exultingly.  "  "Wasn't  it  amusing  ?" 

"  It  is  a  form  of  amusement,  madame,  which 
I  confess  does  not  commend  itself  to  my  taste," 
I  replied,  stiffly. 

"  They  were  so  surprised  to  see  you  with 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

me,"  she  continued,  entirely  ignoring  my  vexa 
tion.  "  What  do  you  suppose  they  thought  ? 
What  did  they  say  ?  I  could  not  hear." 

The  devil  take  me  if  I  tell  her,  I  muttered  to 
myself,  inwardly.  "  They  said  it  was  a  very 
cold  day :  only  four  degrees,"  I  replied,  laconi 
cally. 

"  Why  are  you  so  cross  to  me  ?  I  was  just 
beginning  to  enjoy  myself;"  and  I  noticed  the 
color  had  indeed  returned  to  Daphne's  lips 
and  cheeks,  and  that  there  was  a  feverish  ani 
mation  in  her  usually  half-shut,  dreamy  eyes. 
Shall  I  admit  that  I  was  forced  to  conclude 
that  this  lady  of  my  adoration,  this  angel  at 
whose  feet  I  was  ready  to  cast  myself  down  at 
the  sacrifice  of  all  my  dignity  and  all  my  man 
hood,  had  found  a  diaholical  delight  in  drag 
ging  me,  the  "impregnable,"  conspicuously 
about,  and  parading  me  tied  hand  and  foot  to 
her  skirts  past  a  club  which  is  the  hot-bed  of 
all  Petersburg  scandals,  and  this  a  few  mo 
ments  only  after  a  scene  of  such  fine  delicacy 
and  tender  romance  as  had  been  enacted  be 
tween  us  amid  the  snows  of  the  L^inA  Sadou  f 


142  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

While  I  was  indulging  in  these  reflections 
she  dismissed  me  abruptly,  saying,  "  You  seem 
morose.  I  will  leave  you  now.  I  prefer  to 
finish  my  walk  alone,"  and  did  in  fact  leave 
me  planted  upon  the  sidewalk.  I  groaned  to 
myself  as  I  stumbled  home,  utterly  wretched, 
after  this  abrupt  farewell,  for,  the  club  exploit 
over,  Daphne  seemed  to  have  no  further  use  for 
me,  and  to  have  become  quickly  weary  of  my 
society.  It  is  certain  and  decided  that  she  is 
without  heart.  Has  she  not  admitted  to  me  that 
she  hates  children  ?  It  is  also  certain  that  she 
has  no  discretion,  that  even  her  taste  and  deli 
cacy  are  at  fault,  and  that  ...  I  adore  her ! 

February  13. — How  could  I  so  malign  her ! 
She  is  all  heart,  all  taste,  all  delicacy,  all  dis 
cretion,  only  she  is  tr&s  femme,  which  means 
full  of  contradictions  that  no  blundering  man 
can  ever  understand.  It  is  conclusive  that 'she 
enjoyed  passing  that  club.  I  saw  every  evi 
dence  of  it.  But  why  ?  "Was  it  vanity  ?  A 
little,  perhaps,'  and  the  purity  which  does  not 
know  how  wicked  these  men's  tongues  can  be, 
the  fools — would  that  I  might  cut  their  tongues 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  143 

out  for  them !  But  I  have  not  the  right  to 
mix  up  Mrs.  Acton's  name  in  any  brawl,  and 
this  would  he  the  only  and  sure  result.  1  can 
trust  to  my  natural  reserve  and  dignity  to  stop 
the  slightest  further  allusion  to  our  matutinal 
ramble,  only  .  .  .  she  must  be  more  prudent. 
People  here  will  not  comprehend.  I  have 
heard  that  the  Americans  trust  their  women 
implicitly  and  accord  them  extraordinary 
liberty.  In  theory  I  believe  them  to  be  right ; 
personally  I  confess  that  the  Sultan's  method 
of  lock  and  key  would  suit  me  better,  for  T 
will  confide  to  my  journal,  and  to  my  journal 
alone,  that  I  am  of  an  intensely  jealous  dis 
position,  and  do  not  possess  that  faith  which 
makes  existence  so  delightfully  calm.  Call  it 
trust,  if  you  will ;  I  name  it  conceit. 

February  15  was  perhaps  one  of  the  dreariest 
days  I  ever  spent.  I  noticed  that  the  extreme 
unctuousness  and  marked  courtesies  which  have 
characterized  the  attitude  of  this  government's 
high  officials  towards  my  humble  person  seemed 
to  have  received  a  sudden  check.  The  Czar, 
to  be  sure,  extended  friendly  finger-tips,  but 


144  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

the  gentlewomen  of  the  Empress's  entourage^ 
and  this  lovely  lady  herself,  were  barely  polite, 
while  at  the  foreign  office  there  was,  as  it  were, 
a  smell  of  gunpowder  in  the  air.  Later  I 
learned  of  the  violent  political  and  personal 
attack  upon  me  in  the  Moscow  Gazette,  which 
I  had  not  seen  earlier  in  the  day.  Before 
evening  I  had  taken  steps  to  prosecute  its 
editor.  However  vexing  a  proch  and  its  pub 
licity  is  to  me  at  this  moment,  the  world  shall 
vindicate  me,  and  these  proud  people  shall  be 
brought  to  terms.  I  owe  it  to  the  government 
I  serve  as  well  as  to  my  own  self-respect. 
What!  I  am  to  be  treated  as  a  spy!  I, 
whose  every  instinct  rebels  against  crooked  or 
tortuous  means !  My  fault  has  been  too  much 
bluntness,  too  much  honesty — never  too  little. 
Rather  to  my  amusement,  I  found  myself 
deluged  by  telegrams  from  friends,  all  of  course 
kindly  offering  advice  or  aid. 

I  clipped  the  attack  and  sent  it  to  Mrs.  Ac 
ton,  with  a  word  asking  her  if  she  believed 
these  vile  stories  of  one  whom  she  honored 
with  her  friendship.  August  brought  me 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  145 

back  her  answer :  "  I  will  meet  you  at  the 
Tauride  to  morrow  and  will  confer  on  this 
matter  with  you.  I  am  too  American,  you 
know,  to  do  anything  but  laugh  at  the  attacks 
of  the  press,  which  with  us  has  not  liberty, 
but  license.  I  know  here,  however,  such  mat 
ters  are  more  grave,  and  particularly  to  one 
in  your  delicate  position.  But,  mon  ami,  I 
believe  in  you."  That  was  all.  Oh,  angel ! 

Harassed  by  the  annoyance  of  running 
about  for  counsel  and  getting  into  shape  for 
my  proces,  I  came  home  to  find  some  necessary 
papers.  Gustav,  who  opened  the  door  for  me, 
drew  me  asid^  as  I  entered,  with  a  most  mys 
terious  expression  of  countenance.  "Your 
Excellency,"  he  said,  "  indeed  I  said  you  were 
out ;  I  even  lied  and  said  il  decouche,  but  in  she 
came  and  in  she  would  remain.  She  asked 
for  a  glass  of  vodka,  your  Excellency,  and  she 
emptied  it  so, — as  a  child  would  its  milk ;"  and 
Gustav  tossed  off  an  imaginary  draught  and 
smacked  his  lips  with  a  noisy  c]  uck. 

"  Va  ct  tons  les  diables!"  I  hurled  at  him. 
Inwardly  enraged,  I  entered  my  rooms,  to  find 

o        k  13 


146  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

Madame  Nathalie  in  full  possession.  "I 
thought  you  were  gone,"  I  said,  inhospitably, 
albeit  advancing  to  salute  her.  "  Surely  your 
engagement  at  the  '  Marie'  is  over  ?" 

"  Mon  cher,  you  see  I  am  not,"  she  said, 
"  since  I  come  in  for  a  chat  with  you." 

"It  will  have  to  be  short,"  I  answered, 
curtly.  "  I  am  very  busy." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  knew  you  were  in  trouble,  but 
there  are  things  even  more  terrible  than  a 
false  accusation." 

I  did  not  care  to  discuss  my  affairs  with  the 
importunate  danseuse,  but  something  in  her 
tone  was  so  triste  and  earnest  t]^at  I  involun 
tarily  unbent  a  little.  Smoothing  the  wrinkles 
out  of  my  nose,  which  is  the  feature  upon 
which  my  brother  says  that  all  my  displeasure 
concentrates,  I  handed  her  a  cigarette,  lighted 
my  own  pipe,  and  asked  her  a  little  more  good 
humoredly  what  the  matter  was. 

"  It  is  just  this,"  she  said,  leaning  back  in  a 
low  chair,  and  exhibiting  a  pair  of  tightly- 
fitting  dark-blue  hose.  In  my  newly-assumed 
character  of  Joseph  I  blinked  and  turned 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  147 

away,  laughing  at  myself  a  little  in  my  sleeve 
at  the  same  time. 

Why  is  it  that  play-actresses  are  always  at 
their  rdle  f  they  never  can  be  sincere  for  three 
minutes  consecutively.  When  she  saw  I 
meant  to  be  more  civil  the  mima  waff  all  alive 
again. 

"You  can  prevent  a  ...  murder,"  she 
cried,  tragically. 

"  It  is  so  difficult,  my  fair  one,  to  know  if 
you  are  telling  the  truth,  fabricating  some 
thing  for  your  own  amusement,  or  simply " 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  violent  ges 
ture.  "  Listen  to  me,"  she  said,  "  for  a  mo 
ment,"  and  this  time  there  was  a  return  of 
truthfulness  in  the  ring  of  her  voice.  "  I  may 
be  a  fool,  but  you  owe  me  something." 

"  I  will  not  interrupt  you  again." 

"  You  remember  the  night  you  took  me 
away  from  the  little  Frenchman's  insolence 
at  the  guardsmen's  supper.  Well,  who  else 
would  have  done  it?  You  knew,  all  Peters 
burg  knew,  what  my  relations  had  been  with 
S.,  and  that  I  had  been  under  his  protection  for 


148  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIART 

nearly  two  years.  Yes,  let  me  see."  She 
counted  rapidly  on  her  fingers.  "  I  don't 
allude  to  three  months  in  Italy,"  she  mur 
mured,  as  if  in  doubt  as  to  who  had  protected 
her  during  those.  "Well,  long  before  that 
night  it  was  all  over  between  us.  We  were  bons 
camarades.  His  love  for  me  was  quite  dead, 
quite,  and  you  yourself  saw  how  coldly  he 
stood  by  and  heard  that  boy  insult  me.  Well, 
will  you  believe  it?  since  that  evening  when 
you, — when  he  saw  how  much  I  liked  you, 
and  the  fellows  have  called  you  my  protector, 
— ever  since  then  his  feeling  for  me  seems  to 
have  reawakened.  He  never  cared  about 
d'Aubilly ;  he  only  laughed,  for,  as  I  tell  you, 
it  was  all  up  between  us.  But  now,  now,  he 
swears  if  I  don't  come  back  to  him  he  will 
kill  himself.  He  is  half  wild,  he  is  drinking 
dreadfully.  He  frightens  me.  He  says  he 
will  shoot  you  too  the  next  time  you  come 
to  the  Michel  riding-school,  or  at  the  first 
carousal  of  the  Chevalier  Guardsmen,  as  if 
you  were  a  dog  of  a  Kirgheez.  I  don't  think 
he  will  kill  you;  he  would  not  dare.  He 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  >    149 

knows  what  I  would  do  to  him  then.  But 
I  think  he  is  or  will  be  killing  himself."  She 
stopped,  breathless. 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  about'it  ?" 

"  Go  and  see  him  and  tell  him  there  is 
nothing  between  us.  Calm  his  jealousy.  He 
is  like  an  insane  child." 

"  Why  should  I  go  on  such  a  fool's  errand  ? 
Have  you  not  told  him  that  yourself?" 

"  Yes,  but  he  only  curses  me  and  says  it  is 
a  lie ;  says  he  knows  I  love  you,  and  you  see, 
mon  cher,"  she  added,  and  a  tear,  yes,  an 
actual  tear,  rolled  down  her  cheek,  bringing 
with  it  a  little  streak  of  rouge,  "  the  fact  is 
that  ...  I  think  I  am  amoureuse  pour  de  bon 
this  time." 

"We  are  not  here  to  discuss  your  senti 
ments,  madame,"  I  said,  flicking  the  ashes 
from  my  pipe.  "  But  you  yourself  admit  the 
man  has  ceased  to  love  you;  then  why,  in 
heaven's  name,  should  he  care  a  kopeck  who 
you  give  yourself  to  or  whom  you  honor  with 
your  .  .  .  affections?" 

"  Passion  outlives  love,"  said  Nathalie. 

13* 


150  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

"  Humph !  You  liave  cracked  a  nut  there 
in  whose  kernel  lies  a  grain  of  truth.  I  see 
that  you  study  psychology  as  well  as  vertigi 
nous  entrechats." 

Delighted  to  have  arrested  my  interest  for  a 
moment,  my  tormentor  was  not  slow  in  profit 
ing  by  her  advantage.  "  But  I  would  rather 
die  on  the  straw  than  go  back  to  S.  It  was  a 
dog's  life  that  he  led  me.  When  he  was  jeal 
ous  he  used  to  pull  my  hair  out,  yes,  by  the 
roots."  She  put  up  her  hands  in  illustration 
of  this  picturesque  confession,  and  gave  a 
hard  jerk  to  a  handful  of  her  crisp,  thick  hair, 
which  seemed  to  resist  fairly  well  this  demand 
upon  its  powers  of  resistance.  "  But  you,  but 
you,  how  kind  you  could  be  to  a  woman,  how 
gentle  and  how  tender!  Tell  me,  Monsieur 
le  Comte,  why  am  I  repulsive  to  you  ?" 

She  rose  and  came  close  to  me.  A  very 
pretty  woman  certainly  is  Madame  Nathalie. 
Superb  are  her  ripe  charms,  and  I  could  feel 
her  breath  close  to  my  face  and  see  the  small 
cruel  teeth  glisten  between  the  dry  parted 
lips,  but  God  is  my  witness  that  fiom  her 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

panting  bosom  not  a  spark  flashed  to  my  own, 
and  that  before  this  magnificent  creature  offer 
ing  herself  to  me  so  impudently  in  the  face  of 
the  danger  to  her  former  lover,  which  she 
seemed  sincere  in  believing,  I  remained  as 
cold  as  marble. 

"  What  did  you  come  here  for  ?"  I  said  to 
her,  savagely.  "  Was  it  to  save  a  suicide  or 
to  tempt  a  cynic  ?" 

She  looked  at  me  a  moment  very  strangely. 
Her  eyes  grew  big  and  black  and  her  face 
blanched  under  its  cosmetics. 

"Who  is.  it?  I  will  know,  I  will  know!" 
she  said,  under  her  breath.  "  If  it  is  afemme 
du  monde  she  shall  eat  the  dust." 

Tragics  usually  produce  in  me  a  nervous 
impulse  of  laughter,  and  I  indulged  now  in  a 
guffaw  which  was  calculated  to  clear  like 
thunder  the  electrical  atmosphere.  She 
shrank  and  seemed  to  feel  that  she  had  been 
ridiculous,  which  piqued  her  vanity  as  a 
woman  of  the  world. 

"You  only  laugh,"  she  muttered,  a  little 
ashamed.  "  Only  tell  me  if  the  woman  you 


152  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

care  for  is  afemme  du  monde,  then  I  will  leave 
you,  will  never  trouble  you  again  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said.    "  Now  go !" 

"  Is  she  Eusskaia  ?"  she  persisted. 

"  I  insist  that  this  scene  shall  end !" 

"What  do  you  advise  me  about  Strogo- 
noff?" 

"  Go  back  to  him." 

"What!  you  whom  I  adore  would  drive 
me  back  to  the  arms  of  the  man  I  hate  ?" 

"  Go  to  the  devil,  both  of  you,  only  leave 
me  in  peace  now  and  hereafter !"  I  cried. 

"  You  will  be  sorry  for  this,"  she  said,  in  a 
stifled  key. 

Somehow  the  woman  managed  to  make  me 
uneasy,  and  I  weakly  compromised  by  helping 
her  into  her  shuba  and  accompanying  her  to 
the  door. 

The  antechamber  once  cleared  of  her  pres 
ence  and  her  essences,  I  collared  Gustav  and 
gave  him  such  a  shaking  as  I  will  wager  he 
never  had  had  before  in  his  experiences  as  a 
valet.  "  Take  that,  and  remember  it,"  I  said ; 
"  and  I  will  break  your  bones  and  not  pay  the 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  153 

doctor  who  sets  them  if  ever  you  let  that  jade 
into  my  rooms  again!  Did  you  take  her 
money,  you  dog  ?" 

"JVa,  gnddige  Herr,  I  would  not  touch  the 
lady's  money,  and  you  are  too  violent,"  mum 
bled  Gustav ;  and  then  he  called  out  after  me, 
"  Na,  gnadige  Herr,  but  she  is  a  fine  woman 
for  all  that,  but  when  the  court  ladies  smile 
on  a  man  he  loses  his  head,  and  does  not 
know  his  real  friends  from  enemies  that  shall 
bring  him  to  dishonor." 

The  exact  portent  of  my  angry  servant's 
tirade  I  did  not  stop  to  fathom,  but  I  was  left 
with  a  sense  of  malaise.  I  had  been  brutal  to 
a  woman,  I  had  ill  used  a  faithful  domestic, 
and  I  had  an  unpleasant  sense  that  Daphne 
might  come  to  some  harm  through  this 
woman's  machinations.  "Whence  come  to  us 
these  premonitions?  Certain  it  is  that  the 
disaster  which  followed  my  inaction  and  its 
remorse  will  linger  with  me  long. 

Two  hours  later  I  was  lounging  on  the 
quay,  hoping  that  the  Norths'  sleigh,  with  a 
certain  wished-for  figure  hidden  among  its 


154  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

furs,  might  pass  me,  when  a  man  ran  wildly 
out  of  a  house  and  almost  fell  against  me. 
"  Ah,  monsieur,"  he  said,  in  French,  "  God 
sent  you!  My  poor  master !  my  poor  master! 
He  is  dead !  Come  in !  come  in !  For  God's 
sake,  come  and  help  us !"  His  manner  was 
so  agonized  and  vehement  that  a  crowd  began 
to  gather  about  us.  I  seized  his  arm  and 
'pushed  him  into  the  house. 

I  recognized  him  at  once  as  Strogonoff 's  ser 
vant,  having  seen  him  waiting  at  his-  master's 
supper-table,  and  again  in  attendance  upon 
him  at  the  opera. 

"  What  has  happened  ?"  I  said,  huskily,  step 
ping  into  the  door-way  which  led  to  StrogonofPs 
apartments.  The  other  servants  were  gathered 
in  the  hall,  full  of  dismay  and  consternation. 

"  Quick,  Piotre,  go  for  a  doctor !"  some  one 
cried,  and  then,—"  "Wait !  we  must  telegraph 
at  once  to  Varinka  Mcolaevna,  at  Nice !" 

The  Princesse  Yarinka  was  Strogonoff's 
married  sister,  and  his  only  near  relative. 

In  the  general  confusion  I  found  myself  led 
into  the  unfortunate  young  man's  rooms,  which 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  155 

were  upon  the  ground  floor.  "  This  way,  this 
way,  and  for  God's  sake  help  us !"  wailed  the 
unhappy  valet. 

I  ordered  two  of  the  servants  away,  one  for 
a  physician,  and  one  with  the  telegram,  and 
myself  entered  Strogonoff  's  bedroom  with  his 
body  servant,  the  Frenchman  Leon,  who  had 
met  me  in  the  street.  He  lay. as  they  had 
found  him,  face  downward.  His  powerful 
frame  was  still  clad  in  his  full-dress  uniform, 
his  gold-embroidered  .  white  dolman  hung 
limp  from  one  of  his  shoulders;  he  had 
on  his  boots.  The  early  Russian  twilight 
had  closed  in,  but  the  room  would  have 
been  dark  in  any  case,  for  the  curtains  were 
carefully  drawn,  and  only  two  wax-candles 
burned  upon  the  table.  Between  them,  and 
close  to  the  sofa  where  the  dying  man  lay,  was  a 
photograph  in  a  jewelled  frame.  The  lights  fell 
full  upon  its  pale  surface,  while  the  rest  of  the 
great  high-ceilinged  room  was  in  almost  entire 
obscurity.  I  noticed  even  in  this  dreadful 
moment,  with  the  insistence  with  which  details 
force  themselves  upon  an  excited  mind,  that  it 


156  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

was  a  portrait  of  Nathalie  in  her  role  of  Sieba. 
It  was  a  fine  photograph  and  a  flattered  like 
ness,  with  a  daring,  saucy  glance  in  the  bright 
eyes. 

As  I  turned  the  poor  boy  over  in  my  arms  I 
groaned  over  the  depths  of  human  folly.  He 
was  breathing  still.  A  red  stream  dripped  from 
between  his.  lips.  "Blood,  blood,"  moaned 
Leon,  wringing  his  hands.  "  My  poor  master !" 
I  placed  my  handkerchief  close  to  his  mouth, 
then  motioned  Leon  to  approach  a  light.  "  It 
is  not  blood,"  I  said.  "  It  is  red  wine.  The 
lungs  are  intact.  The  ball  has  entered  his  side, 
and  he  is  vomiting.  This  is  from  the  stomach." 

"  Ay,  wine,  wine  and  cards,  and  that 
woman,"  said  Leon.  "  He  has  been  a  foolish 
fellow,  sir,  and  it  has  brought  him  to  this." 
The  man  seemed  fond  of  his  master ;  he  was 
weeping. 

"We  were  undressing  him  when  the  doctors 
arrived.  Theremin  thinks  the  wound  not  neces 
sarily  fatal.  Later  came  a  telegram  from  the 
Princess  :  "  I  take  midnight  train.  If  he  still 
lives  tell  him  I  will  pay  all  debts.  Varinka  Z." 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  157 

But  Strogonoff  continued  unconscious,  and 
no  such  comforting  assurance  could  reach  his 
deaf  ears.  I  went  home  broken  and  tired.  I 
hardly  have  had  time  to  reflect  a  moment  on 
the  extraordinary  coincidences  of  this  wretched 
day  and  night. 

February  17. — The  ball  had  entered  the 
stomach ;  it  could  not  be  extracted.  He  ex 
pired  on  the  following  night.  I  have  been 
much  affected  by  this  death.  Yet  what  could 
I  have  done  ? 

February  20,  Bezdany,  Lithuanie. — I  have 
been  forced  to  travel  here  to  procure  an  im 
portant  witness  for  my  lawsuit.  I  welcomed 
the  opportunity  thus  afforded  me  to  escape  for 
a  few  days  from  Petersburg,  and  to  shake  off 
the  painful  impressions  which  I  found  it  well- 
nigh  impossible  to  dispel.  I  am  all  the  more 
reconciled  to  this  brief  absence  from  the  fact 
that  my  American  friends  have  gone  into  Fin 
land  for  a  short  excursion.  Here  my  old  friend 
Serge  Oussoff,  whom  I  knew  in  Paris  four  years 
since,  has  offered  me  the  hospitality  of  his 
country  home,  and  here  I  am  very  comfortably 
14 


158  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

established  for  two  or  three  days.  He  told  me 
I  must  furnish  myself  with  a  gun,  hunting- 
knife,  furred  boots  and  vest,  as  he  wished  me 
during  my  sojourn  to  participate  in  a  bear- 
hunt.  These  lords  of  the  Russian  forests  are 
not  rare  in  the  great  wastes  of  pine  which  skirt 
the  environs  of  "Wilna. 

Oussoff  himself  met  me  at  the  station,  and 
while  we  drank  a  glass  of  beer  in  its  murky 
restaurant  he  ordered  his  man  Lachevitch  to 
tell  us  a  bear-story  for  my  especial  benefit. 
Taking  off  his  greasy  cap,  coughing  and  spit 
ting  first,  as  do  all  moujiks  on  important  oc 
casions,  Lachevitch  began  to  relate  his  late 
experiences  in  the  woods.  I  understood  per 
fectly  well  that  this  was  to  whet  my  appetite 
for  personal  exploit,  and  the  tale  was  suffi 
ciently  highly  colored  and  incredible  to  awaken 
the  ardor  of  the  most  languid  sportsman.  At 
any  rate,  the  man  himself,  apart  from  his 
hunter's  boastfulness,  was  delightfully  pictu 
resque.  When  he  had  finally  killed  and  cut 
up  his  bear,  he  blew  his  nose  between  his 
thumb  and  index  finger,  and  proceeded  to 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  159 

wipe  these  digits  upon  his  touloup.  "Most 
people,"  he  said,  addressing  the  nondescript 
hangers-on  who  had  drawn  around  us,  "  prefer 
tracking  rabbits  to  killing  bears ;  it  is  more 
familiar;"  at  which  everybody  laughed  im 
moderately. 

We  drove  ten  versts  in  the  sleigh  to  Serge's 
house,  which  is  presided  over  by  an  old  gouver- 
nante,  Madame  Krioukoff.  She  gave  us  some 
breakfast  as  soon  as  we  arrived.  As  she 
poured  out  our  chay  from  the  great  silver  sam 
ovar  she  expatiated  on  the  fearful  dangers  of 
bear-hunting,  saying  that  the  animals  were 
thick-hided,  and  that  if  one  missed  them,  or, 
worse  still,  only  wounded  them,  they  would 
tear  a  man's  cranium  open  and  play  with  his 
jaw-bones.  She  shook  her  head  dolefully  from 
side  to  side  until  the  little  curls  of  her  yellow 
wig  trembled.  For  her  part,  she  thought 
"  partridges  much  better  game  ;  better  to  eat, 
too,  and  easier  to  bring  home." 

Serge  only  replied,  "  You  chatter  too  much, 
you  chatter  too  much,  Masha  Yacovlena," 
which  reproof  the  old  lady  accepted  good- 


160  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

humoredly,  as  if  she  regarded  it  rather  in  the 
light  of  flattery.  After  breakfast  my  special 
guide  was  brought  in  and  presented  to  me,  or 
rather  I  was  put  under  his  care*.  They  called 
him  Nico.  An  icon  was  suspended  in  the 
sitting-room  where  we  had  assembled  after 
the  meal.  A  light  burned  before  it.  Before 
Nico  undertook  his  new  duties  he  passed  fully 
ten  minutes  at  prayer  before  this  image, 
making  innumerable  signs  of  the  cross  and 
balancing  his  body  backward  and  forward  on 
his  heels.  He  was  a  short  man  with  heavy 
shoulders,  oldish,  with  a  long  white  beard. 
He  wore  a  touloup  which  looked  as  if  it  had 
served  for  coat,  mattress,  napkin,  and  hand 
kerchief,  yet  I  dare  say  it  will  be  a  part  of 
his  eldest  son's  inheritance. 

Having  put  himself  right  with  heaven,  he 
greeted  me  respectfully  and  deigned  to  take 
an  interest  in  me.  I  told  him  I  had  never 
hunted  the  bear,  and  that  the  only  live  ones 
I  had  ever  seen  were  in  the  zoological  gardens 
of  great  cities,  or  led  by  Italian  organ-grinders. 
"  That,"  he  replied,  gravely  and  politely,  "  is 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  161 

hardly  sufficient."  The  moujik  is  always 
civil.  He  has  even  tact  on  occasions,  and  this 
one  concealed  the  scorn  he  must  have  felt  for 
me  with  a  savoir-faire  which  would  have  done 
credit  to  a  courtier. 

It  was  concluded,  as  my  stay  was  to  be  so 
short,  that  we  should  start  very  early  the  next 
day.  "We  did,  in  fact,  start  at  three  o'clock. 
Oussoff  himself  came  into  my  room  on  tiptoe 
with  a  lamp  in  his  hand,  and  told  me  I  must 
hurry,  as  the  troika  would  be  there  in  twenty 
minutes.  I  had  slept  badly,  and  felt  a  good 
deal  like  a  man  who  is  awakened  for  his  exo 
cution.  In  the  troika  we  found  stowed  away, 
besides  our  arms,  several  bottles  of  wine  and 
of  brandy.  It  was  snowing  and  windy.  The 
coachman  tossed  up  his  reins,  gave  a  low 
whistle,  and  off  we  swept,  leaving  behind  us 
two  deep  ruts  in  the  white  surface  of  the  road. 
"  Go  on,  my  little  darlings,"  he  cried  to  his 
horses,  and  we  did  indeed  "  go  on."  It  was  a 
frantic  pace.  After  a  while  we  pulled  up 
before  a  miserable  hut  which  seemed  to  loom 
up  suddenly  in  the  mist. 
I  14* 


162  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

"  Here  we  are !"  cried  Serge.  It  was  Mco'a 
abode.  On  entering  I  was  almost  choked  by  an 
atmosphere  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe, 
— an  odor  of  grease,  smoke,  old  sheepskins 
and  unwashed  humanity.  The  family  had  not 
yet  arisen.  They  seemed  to  be  asleep  all  over 
the  floor.  "  Come,  get  up !"  ordered  their 
master.  In  a  moment  every  one  was  on  his 
or  her  legs ;  the  women  began  to  tie  up  their 
hair,  the  children  to  whimper,  and  the  men  to 
pray  before  the  sacred  images.  It  was  a  most 
extraordinary  scene.  All  these  people  seemed 
to  have  slept  in  their  clothes.  I  expressed 
my  amazement  to  Serge,  who  only  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  "  What  will  you  have  ?  It  is 
a  wonder  the  cow  and  the  pig  are  not  in  here 
too."  And  this  was  all  the  explanation  he 
vouchsafed.  Nico  was  drawing  on  his.  boots 
and  looking  after  his  rusty  old  gun.  He 
handled  it  tenderly  and  with  a  sort  of  respect, 
running  its  bayonet  slowly  up  and  down  his 
thumb. 

Two  men  now  loomed  up  at  the  door-way : 
one  was  called  Isoph,  the  other  seemed  to  be 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  163 

nameless.  I  could  hardly  distinguish  their 
peasant  faces.  They  seemed  younger  than 
Rico,  but  not  more  alert  They  whispered 
something  to  him,  and  he  answered, "  Directly." 
He  then  detained  us  a  moment  longer  while 
he  performed  his  early  orisons,  after  which  he 
saluted  everybody  very  politely.  "  There  is  a 
bear  at  two  versts  from  here,"  he  said  as  we 
sallied  out  into  the  snow,  "  and  I  think  we 
hold  him."  A  party  of  moujiks  awaited  us 
outside.  They  were  mostly,  Serge  told  me, 
Nico's  sons  and  sons-in-law.  It  was  still 
snowing  softly,  but  the  wind  had  blown  itself 
out. 

Our  troika  drew  up  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
woods  and  we  alighted.  We  all  walked  half 
a  mile  in  silence.  It  was  a  painful  march,  for 
the  snow  was  up  to  our  knees.  Suddenly 
Nico  stopped.  "  Do  you  see  that  mound  of 
snow  surmounted  by  a  sort  of  vapor?"  he 
whispered.  We  stopped  and  saw. 

"  Hush  !  He  is  in  there."  At  a  word  from 
their  leader  the  moujiks  formed  a  circle,  elbow 
to  elbow,  round  the  spot  where  "Michel," 


164  4  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

as  the  Russians  call  Bruin,  was  supposed  to 
be  asleep.  Mco  told  us  to  keep  close  together ; 
the  bear  would  come  towards  us.  "  Let  him 
come  very  near,"  said  he,  "  and  then  aim  be 
tween  the  eyes.  If  he  spring,  we  have  always 
the  knife.  Courage !" 

Mco  himself  was  very  placid,  having  made 
several  rapid  signs  of  the  cross.  Then  all  at 
once  and  all  together  the  peasants  began  to 
make  the  most  frightful  noise  that  I  ever  had 
heard  in  my  life,  beating  the  pines,  giving 
vent  to  wild,  incoherent  cries,  and  shouting 
themselves  quite  hoarse.  In  a  few  minutes 
another  sound  mingled  with  the  human  ones. 

"He  is  getting  up,"  said  Mco,  grimly. 
Then  the  creature  appeared.  He  was  very 
big,  quite  enormous,  in  fact,  and  of  a  most 
lovely  pale-gray  color.  He  shook  himself 
languidly  and  moved  in  our  direction.  We 
shouldered  our  rifles.  "Now!"  cried  Nico. 
Serge  pulled  his  trigger,  and  I  did  nothing. 
There  was  a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  through  it 
we  could  see  two  huge  paws  beating  the  air. 
Before  I  could  fire,  Nico  had  made  a  bound 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  165 

forward,  and  his  bayonet  disappeared,  plunged 
into  Michel's  breast.  "With  a  horrible  roar  the 
beast  rolled  forward  upon  the  snow.  In  my 
excitement  I  then  fired  off  two  shots  as  a  sort 
of  pean  of  joy,  and  at  the  risk  of  killing  a 
moujik  or  two,  after  which  I  felt  like  running 
away.  The  bear  was  writhing  in  his  last  con 
vulsions. 

"  I  hit  him,  did  I  not  ?"  asked  Serge,  run 
ning  up. 

"  That  is  very  possible,.  Barin"  replied  the 
peasant,  touching  his  cap ;  he  was  too  deferen 
tial  to  take  the  credit  to  himself,  although  we 
all  knew  perfectly  well  that  Serge's  ball  had 
hardly  grazed  him.  The  fact  is,  we  had  all 
lacked  calmness  and  skill.  Isoph  went  to 
fetch  a  sledge,  while  Nico  cleansed  the  victim. 
We  distributed  rubles  among  the  men,  and, 
Nico  having  assured  me  that  the  bear  was 
absolutely  riddled  with  our  balls,  we  gave  him 
a  handsome  present.  We  then  all  had  some 
brandy.  Nobody  was  duped,  but  we  had 
seen  a  bear -hunt,  and  spent  a  great  deal  of 
money. 


166  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

February  22. — I  found  the  witness  I  wanted 
in  Bezdany,  and  lie  will  be  in  Petersburg  next 
week.  Madame  Krioukoff  parted  from  me 
almost  affectionately.  "  You  must  come  back 
in  the  summer  for  the  mushrooming,"  she 
said.  "It  is  very  amusing,  and  requires  no 
fire-arms.  We  will  get  you  up  a  fine  picnic, 
and  you  will  have  some  of  our  sterlet  soup." 

Serge  told  her  she  was  an  old  goose,  at 
which  she  laughed  amiably,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"Boys  will  be  boys."  She  seemed  to  look 
upon  us  as  mere  children,  and,  in  fact,  full- 
grown  men  are  childish  enough,  God  knows ! 

February  25,  Petersburg. — I  have  been  with 
her  nearly  all  the  day.  The  children's  qua 
drille  took  place  on  the  ice  at  the  Tauride, 
and  there  was  a  great  turnout  of  all  the 
women  a  la  mode,  young  gallants,  and  the 
diplomatic  corps.  One  puts  on  one's  skates 
within  the  old  palace  which  his  royal  mistress 
bestowed  upon  Potemkin,  and  where  the 
favorite  gave  in  Catharine's  honor  those  royal 
entertainments  which  surpassed  in  splendor 
those  we  read  of  in  the  "  Arabian  Nights." 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  167 

The  Countess  "Wasia  de  Barythine  was  co 
quetting  with  Berg  in  the  great  salon.  She 
had  taken  off  her  boots  and  was  warming  her 
tiny  feet  in  their  red  hose  before  the  fire. 
Berg  seemed  out  of  sorts  and  only  half  atten 
tive.  He  is  very  cold  with  me.  He  too  is 
touched  by  that  more  dangerous  wand  than 
any  the  pretty  little  Countess  wields. 

The  band  was  playing  on  the  shores  of  the 
desolate  lake,  with  its  gray,  dim,  overhanging 
skies,  from  which  swoop  down  the  low-flying 
birds,  while  in  the  pauses  the  Tziganes  re 
galed  us  with  songs,  whose  strange  melodies 
run  through  all  the  gamut  of  love,  of  pain, 
and  of  resignation.  The  slide  was  crowded 
with  gay  cavaliers  piloting  their  lovely  burdens 
down  on  their  sledges,  which  slipped  like 
flashes  of  light  and  with  an  impetus  carrying 
them  half  across  to  the  other  side  of  the  ice 
bound  waters.  I  joined  Lady  Xavier,  who 
was  sitting  alone  disconsolately  on  a  bench 
waiting  for  her  daughter,  and  trying  to  keep 
warm  by  blowing  on  her  fingers,  while  the 
skaters  passed  and  repassed  us,  smoking  their 


168  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

cigarettes,  flirting  and  chatting,  with  red 
cheeks  and  redder  noses.  She  spoke  to  me 
of  Mrs.  Acton. 

"  Is  she  as — as — er — eccentric  as  they  say  ?" 
she  asked.  "I  am  told  you  know  her  ex 
tremely  well." 

"Mrs.  Acton,"  I  replied,  both  glad  and 
sorry  to  talk  of  her,  "  is  not  one  who  can  be 
quickly  known." 

"  Oh !"  said  the  English  matron ;  "  she  poses 
for  a  Sphinx,  does  she  ?" 

"  I  think  she  is  one,"  I  replied,  laughing, 
"  without  any  pose." 

"  Do  you  consider  her  clever  ?" 

"  Very." 

"  And  handsome  ?" 

"Yes." 

"These  Americans  arrange  themselves 
well,"  she  said,  apparently  desiring  to  appear 
benignly  indulgent.  "  They  make  a  good 
effect,  but  the  features  are  too  small,  too  in 
significant,  and  they  really  have  no  figures  to 
speak  of,  none." 

"  Ah !"    I  found  nothing  better  to  reply. 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  169 

The  Soltikoff  children  and  their  little  com 
panions  were  forming  into  sets.  Their 
screams  of  delight  were  wafted  to  us  on  the 
gusts  of  icy  wind,  and  I  was  looking  over  my 
shoulder  to  see  if  she  were  not  approaching. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  it,"  continued  Lady 
Xavier,  as  if  to  persuade  herself  of  a  foregone 
conclusion;  "  nowadays,  to  have  any  success,  a 
woman  must  sail  nearer  the  wind  than  for 
merly." 

At  this  moment  Miss  Xavier  passed  us, 
apparently  sailing  very  close  indeed  to  the 
wind  on  the  arm  of  Kalish,  the  dark  Turkish 
attache.  Her  mother's  eyes  followed  her  with 
maternal  solicitude.  Kalish  is  a  favorite  with 
the  young  girls.  •  He  possesses  every  requisite 
with  which  to  fire  an  imagination  of  twenty. 
He  is  handsome,  dreamy,  melancholy,  dissi 
pated,  and  bankrupt. 

"  Your  daughter  skates  well,"  I  remarked, 
wishing  to  be  amiable,  and  also  wishing,  oh, 
BO  much !  that  my  beloved  would  arrive ;  and 
just  then  she  did  arrive,  adorable,  in  rich  gar 
ments.  The  women  stared  as  she  passed 

H  15 


170  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

through  them,  while  the  men  flocked  like  bees 
about  her.  With  a  hasty  excuse  I  deserted  my 
ambassadress,  while  Berg  instantly  forsook  the 
Countess  Wasia. 

As  I  drew  near  her,  trembling,  there  swept 
over  me  that  faint  imperceptible  odor  which 
bereaves  me  at  once  of  my  reason.  She  was 
charmingly  gracious  to  me.  She  turned  away 
from  the  others  and  distinguished  me  de 
cidedly  to-day.  She  gave  me  her  hands  for  a 
moment,  and  I  pressed  and  warmed  them  an 
instant  in  my  own,  and  she  allowed  me  to  push 
her  away  from  the  people,  on  one  of  the  sliding 
chairs,  far,  far  away  under  the  little  bridge, 
where  we  paused  amid  the  snowdrifts  which 
lay  in  great  sparkling  mounds,  and  she  lis 
tened  to  my  words  of  wild  devotion,  her  head 
a  little  bent  towards  me,  her  beautiful  lips 
parted. 

In  the  evening  I  was  again  beside  her  in  the 
closely-curtained  boudoir  of  the  Legation,  and 
a  curious  scene  \v  as  acted  between  us,  which  I 
will  record. 

"When  I  arrived,  Mrs.  ISorth  and  her  niece 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  171 

were  both  in  the  room.    After  an  exchange  of 
commonplaces, — 

"  What  is  that  ornament  you  wear  on  your 
watch-chain?"  asked  Mrs.  North.  "I  have 
always  intended  that  you  should  tell  me.  Is 

V  J 

it  a  decoration,  ...  or  a  religious  medal  ?" 

Now,  the  ornament  in  question  is  a  tiny 
edelweiss  formed  by  a  cluster  of  small  brilliants, 
which  at  parting  the  Princess  Flavie  clasped 
upon  my  chain.  "It  is  no  love-token,  my 
friend,"  she  said,  sadly.  "  It  is  only  the  rivet 
of  a  faithful  friendship;  and  may  it  protect 
you  in  battle,  for  war,  they  say,  is  in  the  air." 
It  would  have  been  ungracious  to  refuse  her 
little  gift,  and  I  accepted  it  lightly  enough, 
with  a  word  of  playful  badinage,  pretending 
not  to  see  the  tear  which  hung  upon  the  Prin 
cess's  eyelashes,  and  the  toy  has  been  about 
me  ever  since,  hardly  remembered,  and  yet  not 
all  unwillingly  worn,  for  surely  I  might  keep 
it  in  commemoration  of  a  happy  escape  from 
an  unpleasant  predicament  in  which  my  dis 
cretion  played  a  more  important  part  than  my 
valor.  Who  knows?  Perhaps  the  poor  ro- 


172  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

mantic  girl's  prayers  are  the  most  sincere  and 
fervent  which  go  up  heavenward  for  me  to-day. 
So  I  answered  Mrs.  North's  question :  "  It  was 
given  me  for  a  talisman,  and  I  cynically  keep 
it  as  a  decoration." 

"  Ah !"  said  Mrs.  North ; "  tell  us  all  about  it." 

"  Why,  there  is  no  story  of  interest  attached 
to  the  thing,"  I  answered.  "  One  of  the  royal 
princesses  gave  it  to  me  to  protect  me  in  battle. 
The  edelweiss  is,  I  believe,  her  pet  flower,  and 
is  supposed  to  bring  good  luck." 

Shortly  after  this,  Mrs.  North  rose,  saying 
that  her  husband  had  a  severe  cold,  and  she 
must  herself  superintend  that  he  took  certain 
remedies  and  his  bath,  all  in  good  time,  and 
she  excused  herself. 

I  was  thus  at  last  left  alone  with  Daphne. 
I  was  sitting  by  a  table  on  which  stood  a  lamp 
"whose  glow  fell  upon  her  face,  for  the  sofa 
upon  which  she  reclined  was  drawn  close 
under  the  light,  which  formed  as  it  were  a  sort 
of  rampart  between  us.  Entirely  careless  of 
the  purport  of  the  words  just  spoken  between 
Mrs.  North  and  myself,  I  leaned  towards  her. 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  173 

"  And  when  will  you  keep  your  promise  to 
me  ?"  I  cried,  eagerly.  "  Is  it  to-morrow  that 
I  am  to  have  the  great  joy  of  escorting  you  to 
the  Hermitage  ?" 

At  the  Tavrichesko?n  Sadou,  in  the  early  part 
of  the  day,  she  had  half  consented  to  meet  me 
some  morning  in  the  art  world,  and  I  was  sick 
with  longing,  as  usual,  for  the  assurance  that  I 
should  be  with  her  again  on  the  morrow.  But 
she  did  not  answer  my  question,  only  looking 
at  me  with  an  expression  of  disdain. 

"  I  have  heard  Americans  accused,"  she  said, 
dryly,  "  of  a  lack  of  distinction  and  social  grace 
and  of  the  elegance  and  tact  which  charm  in 
the  salon.  I  am  not  sorry  to  find  that  even  the 
courtiers  of  an  older  civilization  can  be  defi 
cient  in  good  taste." 

Her  manner  was  so  uncivil  that  I  felt  a  flush 
of  anger  mount  to  my  forehead.  This  allusioir 
to  her  compatriots  filled  me  with  irritation 
and  a  vague  jealousy.  "If  your  own  com 
patriots  are  so  greatly  our  superiors,"  I  said, 
with  petulance,  "I  wonder  you  could  ever 
make  up  your  mind  to  leave  them !" 

15* 


174  ^  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

I  regretted  the  unworthy  words  as  soon 
as  uttered,  but  it  was  too  late.  She  laughed 
a  little  harshly.  "  Ah !"  she  said,  "  I  do  not 
leave  them  for  long;  they  want  me  back," 
and  she  placed  her  hand  as  she  spoke  on 
a  pile  of  foreign  letters  which  lay  under  the 
light  beside  her.  "Here,"  she  continued, 
"this  one,"  lifting  an  envelope  in  her  hand, 
— "  this  one  says  if  I  stay  another  month  he 
will  put  a  bullet  through  himself." 

"  Let  him !"  I  said,  savagely. 

"  Ah !  but  I  cannot  spare  him." 

"  Why  do  you  torture  me  so,"  I  said.  "  For 
God's  sake  put  an  end  to  me  or  to  my  tor 
ments  !  You  are  unjust,  ungenerous,  and  cruel. 
I  do  not  understand  you.  What  do  you  desire 
of  me  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  Wherein  have  I 
offended?" 

Like  a  child  she  leaned  to  me  suddenly,  just 
touching  the  edelweiss  with  her  fingers.  Her 
voice  grew  a  little  faltering  as  if  with  sup 
pressed  excitement.  She  looked  long  into  my 
eyes  as  if  she  would  penetrate  their  secrets. 

"What  is  it?  what  is  it?"  she  said:  "that 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  175 

thing  you  wear  ?  "Was  it  not  vulgar  ?  parading 
your  conquests  before  my  aunt?  vaunting 
your  gages  d'amour  in  my  presence  ?  and  after] 
.  .  .  after  .  .  .  after  this  morning  ?" 

"Vulgar!"  I  said.  "Oh,  my  beloved! 
This  girl  is  less  to  me  than  a  sister.  One 
breath  of  your  splendor  is  more  to  me  than 
her  life  or  her  death  could  ever  be !  Here ! 
I  will  prove  it;"  and  with  a  rapid  gesture  I 
rose  and  drew  my  sword  from  its  scabbard. 
The  edelweiss  was  fastened  only  by  a  slender 
clasp.  With  one  sharp  cut  of  the  polished 
steel  blade,  on.e  quick  wrench,  it  fell  at  her  feet, 
and  rolled  away  towards  the  mantel-piece. 

I  shall  never  to  my  dying  hour  forget  the 
beauty  of  her  face  at  that  moment.  She  was 
quite  white  except  for  two  living  spots  of  color 
high  up  in  her  cheeks,  while  her  eyes  seemed 
to  dilate  and  to  grow  large  and  sombre,  glow 
ing  like  some  wild  thing's,  some  panther  of 
the  desert's.  Her  bosom  heaved  with  exult 
ant  triumph,  and  I  knew  that  she  had  been 
caught  up  for  a  moment  into  a  woman's  para 
dise  ;  she  had  fathomed  the  depth  of  my  pas- 


176  -A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

sion  for  her,  and  its  fire  had  for  an  instant 
scorched  her  own  soul.  This  peculiar  exalta 
tion  passed  in  an  instant ;  the  color  faded  and 
the  lashes  fell  again  and  shaded  the  eyes. 
The  palpitant  breath  came  less  quickly.  The 
hands  unclasped  themselves  and  fell  nerveless 
on  her  knees.  She  rose,  and,  walking  towards 
the  mantel-piece,  raised  the  front  of  her  lace 
skirts  a  little  and — shall  I  say  it? — gave  a 
kick  of  considerable  energy  with  the  toe  of 
her  dainty  high-heeled  slipper  to  poor  Flavie's 
ill-starred  gift.  It  disappeared  among  the 
ashes.  She  turned  to  me  then  with  such — oh, 
such  a  smile !  The  smile  of  a  captious,  but 
repentant  child. 

"  It  was  an  ugly  little  thing,"  she  said.  "A 
hideous  little  thing.  It  was  absolutely  dis 
figuring  to  your  uniform.  It  was  perfectly 
ridiculous.  That  princess  must  be — must  be 
— very — very  stingy  to  give  you  such  shabby, 
silly  presents !" 

"What  mattered  the  dear  foolish  words  which 
made  us  so  near,  which  made  her  less  the 
goddess  to  me  than  the  beautiful  shy  creature 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  177 

my  senses  craved,  my  lips  grew  dry  for,  my 
arms  longed  to  hold  and  press?  But  with  a 
strength  of  will  which  I  had  hardly  thought  I 
possessed  I  conquered  my  impulse.  Must  not 
one  quell  the  instincts  of  a  savage  ancestry  if 
civilization  is  to  count  for  aught  ?  "  Stingy, 
my  beautiful  one,  stingy  ?  Well,  yes,  perhaps ; 
and,  do  you  know,  I  am  always  scolding  her 
for  her  extravagance  ?" 

"  II  n'y  a  pas  de  quoi,"  she  said,  and  then 
we  both  laughed,  she  a  little  wildly,  and  both 
until  the  tears  stood  in  our  eyes.  It  was  such  a 
relief  after  the  intense  tension.  It  was  so 
sweet.  We  were  so  madly  happy.  Oh, 
Daphne,  Daphne,  were  you  not  happy  too  ?  I 
sat  near  to  her,  and  she  let  me  hold  her  hands, 
in  all  honesty  and  seriousness,  while  I  told  her 
all.  "  I  can  have  no  further  secrets  from  you," 
I  said,  and  unfolded  to  her  Flavie's  story,  only 
veiling  names  and  places  as  was  befitting  a 
man  of  honor. 

My  head  was  so  dizzied  by  the  violent 
emotions  of  the  evening  that  after  I  left  her  I 
walked  far  on  the  Nevsky  in  search  of  my  lost 


178  A  DIPLOMAT  S  DIARY 

calm.  I  craved  the  air.  The  moon  was  rising; 
it  was  not  very  cold.  The  church  clock  struck 
one  when  I  reached  the  enclosure  in  which 
stands  the  .statue  of  Catharine,  "  Yekatierina." 
How  lovingly  Russians  of  all  classes  from 
the  courtier  to  the  moujik  utter  the  magic 
name !  I  paused  and  looked  up  at  her  where 
she  loomed  from  her  base  of  red  granite  against 
the  pallid  stars.  The  piles  of  unshovelled  snow 
threw  up  a  queer  uncertain  reflection  on  the 
mantle  of  the  lascivious  queen,  striding  proudly 
over  the  heads  of  her  crouching  lovers, — Der- 
javin,  Prince  Dashnoff,  Count  Roumiantseff, 
Princes  Potemkin,  Suwarrow,  Bedborodko, 
Belsky,  Chichagoff;  Counts  Orloff  and  Ches- 
minsky.  To  me  this  statue  is  a  strangely 
unpleasant  work  of  art ;  hut  as  I  leaned  against 
the  little  brick  railing,  my  thoughts  were  not 
of  Catharine  or  of  her  favorites.  A  serpent's 
tooth  had  bitten  me.  Who  is  this  man,  this 
compatriot  of  hers,  who  threatens  to  kill  him 
self  if  she  does  not  return  to  him  ?  "What  is 
his  claim  ?  Why  will  she  never  say  "  I  love 
you ! ''  and  why  will  she  always  put  off  my 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  179 

avowals  with  vague  answers  as  if  in  fear  of  the 
future?  But,  then,  why  this  petulance,  this 
distrust,  this  jealousy,  if  she  does  not  care? 
Who  can  judge  a  woman's  caprices?  Am  I 
merely  this,  a  caprice,  while  I  throw  at  her 
feet  all  the  wealth  of  a  profound  adoration  ? 

These  baffling  questions  poisoned  all  the 
sweet  memories  of  the  evening.  Bah !  To  fly 
from  their  torment  I  rapidly  retraced  my  steps, 
and  stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  club ;  a  letter 
from  Wilna  was  to  await  me  there.  Kalish, 
d'Aubilly,  and  two  Chevalier  Guardsmen 
were  playing  whist,  smoking,  and  silent,  only 
an  occasional  ejaculation  escaping  one  of  them 
across  the  green  baize  over  which  they  were 
testing  their  luck  and  their  genius. 

On  my  way  out  my  attention  was  drawn  to 
a  noisy  group  of  men.  They  seemed  to  be 
making  some  attack  on  d'H.,  who  I  soon  saw 
was  a  good  deal  under  the  effect  of  copious 
draughts  from  a  neighboring  punch-bowl. 
He  seemed  to  be  the  target  for  some  particu 
lar  chaffing,  at  which  great  mirth  was  evoked. 
His  replies  were  made  in  a  protesting  and 


180  *  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

fretful  voice  and  always  hailed  by  bursts  of 
rather  brutal  merriment. 

u Allans,  man.  char,"  said  one,  bolder  than  the 
others,  "Madame  d'H.  is  charming,  no  doubt, 
but  yon  cannot  persuade  ns  that  you  mar 
ried  her  for  her  beauty."  And  then  I  heard 
the  newly  made  bridegroom,  but  returned 
yesterday  from  his  bridal-trip,  say,  rather 
thickly,  "Believe  me,  my  wife  is  supremely 
beautiful" 

I  advanced  suddenly  among  them,  and  laid 
my  hand  rather  heavily  on  his  shoulder. 

"Let  him  alone, let  him  alone!"  cried  the 
others. 

"  Boudtet  ochin  messido  !"    . 

" Nidcheoo,  it  is  only  fun,"  said  Berg;  but 
I  did  not  release  my  hold  on  the  silly  youth. 

"  "Who  are  you  ?"  he  lisped.  "  Are  yon  of 
the  police?  I  was  just  explaining  to  these 
gentlemen: " 

"Are  yon  not  ashamed  of  yourselves,"  I 
asked,  angrily,  of  the  group  of  thoughtless 
fellows,  among  whom  I  recognized  some 
friends  and  many  acquaintances,  "to  make 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

this  fool's  young  bride  the  subject  of  your 


"  If  yon  say  I  am  a  fool,  you  lie,"  muttered 
d'H. 

The  young  men  suddenly  seemed  to  feel 
rather  ashamed  of  themselves,  while  Berg 
said,  in  a  loud  voice, "  I  was  beginning  to  think 
myself  they  had  gone  about  far  enough." 

"  Perhaps  I  have  had  too  much  wine,"  mut 
tered  d'H.,  under  his  breath,  and  he  did  not 
struggle  with  me,  and  allowed  himself  to  be 
propelled  from  the  room. 

"  Young  man,"  I  said  to  him,  once  out  upon 
Hie  sidewalk,  "  be  wise  in  time.  Do  not  insist 
that  others  should  appreciate  your  happiness." 
I  could  have  laughed  with  the  jest  at  the 
betise  of  a  man's  boasting  of  his  young  wife's 
charms  to  a  party  of  unscrupulous  and  fiery 
gallants  had  not  my  disgust  dampened  my 
sense  of  humor;  and  then  I  gave  him  a  little 
shove  into  the  snow,  and,  hailing  a  passing 
cani,  was  whirled  home. 

February  26.— Before  breakfest  I  met  little 
Madame  d'H.  and  her  mother  on  my  way  to 
16 


182  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

the  Anitchkoff.  I  looked  in  vain  at  the  young 
woman  for  some  marks  of  the  tragedy  which 
should  already  have  touched  her.  The  ladies 
were  emerging  from  the  Mala  Sadovaya,  and 
intent,  they  told  me,  upon  a  turquoise  hunt  in 
the  Oriental  shops  of  the  Nevsky  Prospect.  I 
wished  myself  to  look  in  at  one  of  these  depots 
of  Persian  and  Turkish  wares  for  a  Caucasian 
dagger  set  in  curious  stones  I  had  heard  Mrs. 
Acton  admire,  and  which  I  thought  might  be 
deftly  concealed  in  a  bunch  of  roses.  I  there 
fore  walked  for  a  few  moments  beside  the 
mother  and  daughter.  They  were  both  bus 
tling  and  busy;  profuse  in  idle  chatterings, 
the  younger  one,  with  her  open  pink  nostrils 
and  light  eyes,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  a 
pretty  China  rabbit. 

"  Adolph  told  me  this  morning  he  had  met 
you  at  the  club  yesterday — no,  it  must  have 
been  to-day,"  she  said,  giggling.  "  He  is  not 
up  yet.  Do  you  believe  it,  mamma  ?" 

"  Clubs  are  ruining  our  youth,"  said  the 
mother,  severely,  "both  in  morals  and  in 
manners." 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  183 

"  Ah  yes,  ah  yes,"  answered  Madame  d'H., 
distraite,  having  spied  some  turquoise  orna 
ments  in  the  vitrine.  "  Cards  and  wine,  par 
ticularly  the  wine.  They  take  too  much;  it 
is  very  bad  for  the  stomach.  You,  mon 
sieur,"  she  said,  turning  towards  me  reprov 
ingly,  "  as  one  of  the  older  men,  should  set  a 
better  example." 

I  stared  blankly  for  a  moment,  murmuring 
some  commonplace  about  being  a  poor  crea 
ture  with  no  gracious  goddess  to  keep  me  at 
home,  and  left  with  a  profound  salutation,  less 
to  the  young  woman  herself  than  to  her  inno 
cence,  ruse,  or  frivolity. 

February  27. — My  lady  accorded  me  to-day, 
perhaps  as  a  reward  for  discreet  behavior, 
•vhat  might  have  been  a  great  joy.  She  met 
me  at  the  Hermitage ;  but  two  little  incidents, 
one  unimportant,  one  more  serious,  marred  all 
of  my  hard-earned  content  I  was  there  punc 
tually,  waiting  beneath  the  monolith  of  Fin 
land  granite.  She  floated  in  at  the  great  front 
entrance  between  its  splendid  stooping  figures 
(all  honor  to  Leo  von  Klenze !)  like  some  bird 


184  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

of  rich  plumage  from  a  warmer  clime  seeking 
shelter  from  out  the  frozen  day.  She  bade 
her  servant  care  for  her  furs,  and  then,  turning 
to  me, — 

"You  can  to-day  exemplify  your  nation's 
love  of  tyranny,"  she  said.  "I  put  myself 
absolutely  into  your  hands  for  guidance.  I 
will  follow  you  through  this  labyrinth  of  won 
ders  wherever  you  lead  me.  You  will  not 
find  me  perverse ;  I  promise  to  be  docile." 

I  thanked  her  for  the  word  which  gave  me 
a  delicious  sense  of  mastery  and  of  care-taking 
over  her,  my  geliebte  !  I  began  by  giving  her 
a  lecture  on  Greek  art,  and  she  listened  with 
that  eager  attention  so  flattering  to  the  speaker 
and  that  no  one  can  accord  or  withhold  more 
effectually.  I  bade  her  admire  the  supple 
limbs  of  the  draped  goddess  who  has  long 
held  me  in  thrall,  and  told  her  that  I  had  per 
ceived  from  the  first  moment  of  her  apparition 
in  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  Sergievskaia  a 
marked  resemblance  in  her  figure  to  that  of 
this  pet  statue  of  mine. 

"  If  a  small  bust  and  a  large  waist  answer 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  185 

to  the  rules  of  beauty,  then  indeed  I  must  be 
correct,  but  what  would  the  French  mantua- 
makers  say?" 

"  What  do  they  say  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  I  have  a  particular  chic,  a  type  of 
my  own,  which  enables  me  to  carry  off  my 
.  .  .  defects  and  persuade  people  that  I  am 
well  made.  But  I  mean  what  do  they  say 
when  my  back  is  turned?  I  believe,  however, 
Mr.  "Worth  approves  of  me.  He  makes  me 
stand  about  for  hours  while  he  drapes  Greek 
t^owns  upon  me." 

"Your  figure  is  perfect,"  I  said,  hotly. 
"  Look  at  the  statues  of  the  modern  French 
school !  Take  those  feet  and  waists,  distorted 
as  were  those  of  the  grisettes  who  threw  off 
their  corsets  and  their  tight  shoes  to  pose  to 
the  artist  as  a  Venus  or  a  Minerva ;  then  turn 
and  see  the  tranquil  ease  of  my  lady  here. 
There  is  not  an  angle !" 

"  I  am  very  jealous  of  her,"  said  Mrs.  Acton, 
laughing ;  "  but  you  must  confess  she  looks  a 
trifle  stupid.  Do  I  ?" 

So  we  moved  on,  and,  oh,  1  was  happy !    I 

16* 


186  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

was  struck  as  usual  with  the  purity  of  her 
taste,  the  justness  of  her  appreciation  and 
criticisms.  When  we  grew  tired  of  the  Mar- 
mor  Eilder,  we  amused  ourselves  examining  the 
Kertch  collection,  with  its  Scythian,  Siberian, 
and  Oriental  marbles.  The  objects  found  at 
Kief  greatly  •  interested  my  fair  companion. 
Among  them  is  that  gold  medal  of  Cherni- 
goff's  which  bears  the  Slavonic  inscription, 
"  Lord,  aid  thy  servant  Basil !"  These  amu 
lets  were  worn  around  the  necks  of  the  Eussian 
princes  and  their  wives,  and  as  Saint  Vladimir 
took  the  name  of  Basil,  when  baptized,  this 
probably  belonged  to  him.  A  jasper  tazza  in 
the  gallery  of  Piotre  Veliki,  a  plume  which  the 
Shah  of  Persia  presented  to  the  hero  Suwar- 
row,  who  hastened  to  lay  it  at  Catharine's  feet, 
tea-services,  caskets  of  silver,  vermeil  crystal 
and  glass,  Catharine's  jewelled  walking-sticks, 
a  hundred  objects  from  the  Korghiz  steppes, — 
all  seemed  to  bewitch  Mrs.  Acton,  and  I  could 
with  difficulty  tear  her  away  from  their  con 
templation.  By  and  by  we  ascended  the  vast 
stairs  which  lead  up  to  the  picture-galleries. 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  187 

"While  we  wandered  about  we  chatted,  and 
I  drew  from  my  breast-pocket  a  few  verses 
which  I  had  translated  from  the  Russian  text 
for  her  into  German.  It  was  a  pretty,  musical 
thing,  and  at  the  first  word  or  two  I  read  oif 
for  her  she  took  it  into  her  pretty  head  she 
must  then  and  there  hear  the  whole.  I  was 
rather  averse,  I  confess,  to  sitting  down  and 
reading  my  madrigal  in  so  public  a  place, 
even  though  the  great  halls  were  almost  de 
serted  at  this  early  hour ;  but  ce  quefemme  veut 
Dieu  le  veut,  and  in  a  few  moments  we  were 
occupying  two  high-backed  gilded  chairs  under 
the  shadow  of  a  great  porphyry  vase  which 
adorns  one  of  the  apartments  dedicated  to 
Dutch  art. 

"I  must  hear  it  now,"  she  said,  like  the 
wilful  child  that  she  is,  "this  very  minute, 
every  sweet  little  word  of  it." 

Her  docility,  it  seemed,  had  already  evapo 
rated,  and,  as  usual,  powerless  to  resist  her,  I 
meekly  began  to  spell  out  the  ill-written, 
somewhat  jumbled  lines.  It  was  called  "  Un 
shed  Tears,"  and  was  about  as  foolish  and 


188  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

morbid  as  Slavonic  melancholy  can  be  made, 
with  an  added  grain  of  Celtic  ardor.  I  had 
almost  reached  its  last  wail  when  the  rustle 
of  garments  made  us  look  up,  and  the  old 
Countess  de  Barythine  and  Madame  Soltikoff 
passed  up  the  floor.  They  hesitated  a  mo 
ment  as  if  to  stop  and  speak  with  us,  but  on 
second  thoughts,  exchanging  rapid  and  some 
what  significant  glances,  they  concluded  to 
walk  on,  only  pausing  long  enough  to  bow. 
I  must  admit  I  felt  like  an  idiot  in  my  trouba 
dour  attitude,  and  a  little  vexed  at  Mrs.  Ac 
ton's  thoughtlessness  in  thus  inviting  criticism 
upon  herself.  In  these  things  we  are  not  in 
sympathy.  If  she  noticed  my  annoyance  she 
made  no  comment ;  she  listened  in  silence  to 
the  poem,  which  I  ended  rather  hurriedly, 
commended  its  sentiment  and  imy  talents 
as  a  translator,  thanked  me  graciously,  and, 
making  a  roll  of  the  bit  of  paper,  slipped  it 
into  her  glove,  where  it  lay  snug  and  warm 
against  the  palm  of  her  hand.  We  were  just 
shaking  off"  the  slight  restraint  which  this  little 
episode  and  the  possible  reappearance  of  our 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  189 

acquaintances  had  cast  upon  us  when  a  new, 
and  this  time  more  unexpected,  occurrence 
served  to  give  me  food  not  now  for  vexation, 
but  for  positive  pain.  Certainly  with  Daphne 
one  does  not  languish  for  lack  of  emotions. 

As  we  were  listlessly  walking  through  a 
room  crowded  with  stiff-necked  ladies  of  the 
true  Dutch  type,  with  high  foreheads  and  wide 
ruffs,  varied  by  landscapes  whose  blue  skies 
served  as  a  background  for  very  green  trees 
and  very  yellow  cows,  our  attention  was  simul 
taneously  arrested  by  the  life-size  portrait  of  a 
young  lad.  In  my  poetic  frenzy  I  had  for 
gotten  my  catalogue,  and  left  it  upon  one  of 
the  gilded  chairs,  but  I  had  seen  this  striking 
picture  before,  and  believed  it  to  be  one  of  the 
Stuart  kings  done  in  his  boyhood  by  a  great 
Dutch  painter,  probably  Vandyke.  The  pic 
ture  struck  me  then  as  it  had  struck  me  ou 
former  occasions,  as  a  masterpiece.  The  boy, 
who  might  have  been  about  fifteen,  stood  near 
a  dark  curtain,  whose  shadow  fell  upon  with 
out  darkening  his  face,  in  a  reposeful,  graceful 
attitude,  one  hand  resting  upon  the  table. 


190  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

He  was  dressed  in  a  sombre  velvet  doublet, 
and  in  the  picturesque  fashion  of  his  day. 
The  face  was  full,  with  the  slightly-rounded 
features  and  indistinct  outlines  of  lingering 
childhood.  The  lips  were  dewy,  and  red  as 
a  woman's,  yet  were  not  devoid  of  a  certain 
dignity  and  power.  The  chin,  which  was  ex 
quisite  in  its  contour,  was  at  once  imperious 
and  sensuous.  It  was  a  face  which  one  felt 
might  under  evil  influences  grow  animal  and 
coarse ;  but  at  this  early  age  it  was  as  yet  only 
tender  and  loving,  and  it  seemed  probable  that 
it  might  remain  charming  even  into  manhood. 
The  hair,  cut  low  and  square  across  the 
brow,  and  hanging  at  either  side  upon  the 
shoulders,  was  of  a  rich  brown  color,  thick 
and  curly.  The  brow  itself,  earnest  and  a  little 
frowning,  overshadowed  two  deep-set  eyes  of 
an  indistinct  blue-gray  color ;  their  dominating 
expression  was  one  of  sadness.  One  might 
go  further  and  say  that  they  had  in  them  as 
they  met  the  gaze  the  suggestion  of  a  vague 
reproach.  It  was  as  if  they  were  searching  in 
the  eyes  that  met  them  to  detect  some  spark 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

of  disloyalty  or  faithlessness,  and  to  reward  it 
with  a  passionate  contempt.  The  whole  of 
the  lithe,  youthful,  princely  figure  was  tinged 
with  something  pathetic,  with  a  strange  mel 
ancholy  and  fascination.  I  had  for  a  moment 
been  so  absorbed  in  my  contemplation  of  its 
beauty  that  I  had  not  looked  at  Mrs.  Acton. 
When  I  did  so,  I  know  not  why,  my  heart 
stood  still.  It  was  like  the  shock  of  some  fatal 
presage.  I  had  turned  to  say  to  her,  "  What  a 
distinguished  face !"  but  the  words  died  ouc 
half  uttered  on  my  lips.  Entirely  oblivious  of 
my  very  existence,  Daphne  stood  with  clasped 
hands  before  the  picture,  drinking  in  its 
minutest  detail.  I  was  struck  not  only  by  the 
dejected  droop  of  her  whole  person,  but  by  a 
look  of  positive  terror  which  seemed  to  fix  her 
eyes  upon  those  of  the  youthful  king.  For 
fully  ten  minutes,  to  me  an  eternity,  she 
remained  immovable,  speechless,  evidently 
under  the  influence  of  some  terrible  and  over 
powering  agitation.  I  touched  her  shoulder. 
"  Come !"  I  said,  with  dry  lips,  and  almost 
sternly. 


192  -A-  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

She  turned  and  looked  at  me.  Her  eyes 
were  sunken;  her  features  looked  pinched. 
She  shook  off  my  touch  and  shrank  away  from 
me,  cowering,  looking  about  her  as  if  for  some 
way  of  escape. 

"  I  wish,"  she  said,  "  that  the  earth  would 
swallow  me !" 

"  What  is  it  ?"  I  asked,  angrily.  "  What  is 
this  new  torture  you  inflict  upon  me  ?  What 
is  this  picture  to  you  ?  What  does  your  past 
hold  which  it  recalls  ?  Is  it  a  dead  husband,  or 
a  living  lover  ?"  The  words  were  cruel,  but 
jealousy  makes  us  so. 

She  did  not  deign  to  reply,  but,  as  if  spell 
bound,  continued  to  look  at  the  boy's  lovely 
face  until  great  tears  welled  up  into  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  darling,"  I  s'aid,  "  have  pity,  forgive 
me,  come  away !" 

But  she  shook  me  off.  "  How  dare  you  ?" 
she  said.  "  What  are  you  to  me  ?" 

I  left  her  side  and  made  my  way  to  one 
of  the  windows,  looking  out  with  eyes  that 
saw  not  into  the  square,  half  hidden  by  the 
troubled  mist  of  fast-falling  snow.  I  do  not 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  193 

know  how  long  I  stood  there.  By  and  by  I 
heard  her  light  step  behind  me.  She  seemed 
to  walk  as  if  in  a  dream.  A  gust  of  icy  wind 
from  an  open  window  about  which  some  men 
were  at  work  seemed  suddenly  to  awaken 
her  from  her  stupor.  She  passed  her  hand  two 
or  three  t^mes  over  her  brow,  as  if  to  efface  an 
enduring  image. 

"  Forgive  me,  monsieur,"  she  said,  gently, 
"  if  I  have  been  unkind  to  you.  Some  day  I 
will  explain  all  to  you,  and  what  those  eyes 
have  said  to  me,  but  to-day  I  cannot,  I  cannot." 

I  could  not  trust  myself  to  answer  her,  and 
only  offered  her  my  arm  silently.  She  took  it 
and  we  went  slowly  down  the  corridor  and 
then  the  stairs.  Outside,  a  fine  bright  hurri 
cane  was  blowing  about.  Mrs.  Acton's  coach 
man  was  standing  on  the  sidewalk  talking 
with  Madame  Soltikoff 's  footman.  They  were 
stamping  their  feet  and  tossing  their  arms 
to  and  fro,  trying  to  keep  warm  while  their 
mistresses  lingered  in  the  galleries. 

I  escorted  Mrs.  Acton  to  her  sleigh,  begged 
her  to  wrap  up  her  throat,  but  I  did  not  look 

in  17 


194  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARf 

at  her,  and  when  she  faltered,  "  Shall  I  see  you 
to-night?"  I  answered,  "No,  not  to-night." 
She  had  shrunk  from  me  as  if  I  were  a  leper 
or  some  noisome  thing,  and  I  could  not  forget. 
All  the  way  home  this  thought  stung  me  into 
the  intensest  anger,  but  when  the  first  rage  of 
jealousy  and  of  doubt  was  spent  I  fell  into  a 
mood  of  great  dismay. 

March  7. — I  have  kept  from  her  for  eight 
long,  cursed  days.  God  alone  knows  the 
misery  of  those  wretched  hours.  I  can  exist 
no  longer. 

March  9. — Yesterday  in  the  morning  I 
went  to  her.  She  had  sent  me  many  sum 
monses,  but  I  had  not  heeded  them.  What  was 
I  in  her  life?  Had  she  not  asked  me?  I 
found  her  alone.  She  received  me,  as  I  thought, 
coldly,  and  all  the  pent-up  fire  that  had  burned 
within  my  heart  surged  to  my  lips.  I  think 
I  must  have  found  the  untutored  eloquence 
which  genuine  pain  teaches,  that  cry  of  the 
heart  whose  sincerity  is  its  force. 

"I  know,"  I  said,  "that  at  that  moment 
some  memory  of  your  old  life  in  far-off 


.4  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  195 

America  held  you,  and  that  you  hated  your 
present  and  me.  But  see !  I  was  thrown 
away  from  you  like  a  vile  despised  thing,  and 
like  a  vile  despised  thing  I  have  crawled  back 
to  your  feet.  Daphne,  listen,  I  will  know  the 
truth !  I  have  given  you  now  every  aspiration 
of  my  life,  its  every  hope  and  dream.  It  ia 
too  late  to  recall  them.  I  will  follow  you 
like  a  dog  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  if  you 
command  me,  throw  to  the  winds  all  I  have 
toiled  for  all  these  years,  every  ambition  of 
youth,  every  hope  of  fame,  or  lift  you  to  my 
side  and  proudly  proclaim  you  my  crown,  my 
sovereign,  before  a  world  that  you  are  made 
to  adorn,  but  to-day  I  stand  before  you  to 
know  the  truth  from  your  own  lips.  If  you 
have  smiled  upon  me  to  fan  some  vain  vagary 
born  of  your  vanity  or  your  idleness,  given 
me  in  exchange  for  the  best  my  soul  can  offer 
you,  only  the  husks  of  a  woman's  fitful  fancy, 
be  generous,  speak,  while  I  could  yet  forgive 
you,  speak  while  I  could  yet  thank  you  for  a 
disillusion  that  shall  be  complete  enough  to 
save  us  both !  Do  not  debase  me  further,  for 


196  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

to-morrow  I  may  throw  even  my  honor  at 
your  feet.  If  anything  stands  between  us, 
either  in  your  present  or  your  past,  let  it  be  no 
chimera.  If  it  be  flesh  and  blood  I  shall  con 
quer,  but  I  can  no  longer  fight  shadows. 
Daphne,  I  am  consumed  with  my  love  for  you. 
The  first  time  that  I  saw  you  it  was  the  same. 
Lay  your  cool  hand  upon  my  forehead,  dear. 
Help  me,  I  love  you !" 

She  had  listened  to  me  in  perfect  silence, 
but  when  I  had  finished,  like  a  whirlwind  she 
rushed  forward  to  me,  heedless,  reckless;  she 
threw  her  arms  out  towards  me  crying, 
"  Pardon,  pardon !"  Then,  standing  close  to 
me,  she  whispered  three  words,  three  words 
swiftly,  in  French.  Three  words!  A  life's 
history.  I  knew  thafr  they  were  true  ;  I  had 
read  them  on  those  pure  lips  for  which  I  had 
so  pined.  But  ah,  when  they  were  mine  at 
last,  imprisoned,  when  I  drank  in  great 
draughts  of  their  hot,  delicious  sweetness! 
It  was  no  timid  girl's  shrinking  kiss  which 
met  my  own,  but  the  caress  of  a  passionate 
queen.  There  was  no  need  of  any  further 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  197 

words.  I  was  too  intoxicated  with  my  happi 
ness  to  demand  any  assurances  then,  and  she, 
poor  child,  seemed  like  one  weary  of  strug 
gling  and  glad  to  rest  quietly  for  a  moment  in 
my  arms.  Before  we  parted  she  told  me  that 
the  picture  had  reminded  her  of  one  who  loved 
her  arid  who  had  been  woven  into  her  life.  She 
seemed  to  suffer  so  terribly  at  the  allusion  that 
I  shrank  at  the  sight  of  her  pain.  I  know  that 
this  was  weakness,  but,  with  the  moisture  of  her 
lips  yet  upon  mine,  how  could  I  torment  her? 
If  her  kiss  was  for  farewell,  God  help  me,  for 
her  lips  after  their  supreme  surrender  made  me 
no  promises.  She  has,  on  the  contrary,  ex 
pressly  declared  that  she  must  return  at  once 
to  her  own  country,  and  that  I  am  not  to  follow 
her  until  she  bids  me  §ome.  I  am  no  effem 
inate  voluptuary;  I  can  serve  for  her  seven 
years,  if  need  be.  There  must  he  some  en 
tanglement  in  her  life,  and  the  moment  I  had 
left  her  a  hundred  serpents  of  doubt  were 
again  stinging  my  heart. 

In  the  evening,  knowing  I  should  find  her 
there,  I  went  to  the  Italians.    When  I  entered 

17* 


198  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

and  walked  to  my  seat  she  and  Mrs.  North 
were  already  in  their  loge.  She  was  all  in 
white.  Berg  leaned  over  her,  keeping  a 
jealous  eye  on  me  from  behind  her  shoulder, 
and  she,  insoutiante,  and  at  the  same  time  ani 
mated,  seemingly  interested  in  his  words,  yes, 
I  actually  saw  her  once  lean  back  and  laugh ! 
Prince  L.,  who  sat  by  me,  insisted  on  recount 
ing  the  adventures  in  Petersburg  of  La  Silva, 
who  was  giving  us  Carmen  in  its  coarsest  form ; 
but  while  she  warbled  "  Ld,  bos,  let  bos  sous  la 
montagne,"  and  the  old  man  gossiped,  I  was 
nervously  clutching  my  opera-glass  and  look 
ing  up  like  an  idiot  at  Mrs.  Acton,  to  see  if  I 
could  detect  what  was  passing  in  her  mind. 
She  nodded  to  me,  and  I  vowed  to  make  her 
wait  for  me,  and  know  for  once  what  waiting 
means;  but  when  the  act  was  over  I  gave  up 
all  my  strategy  and  went  up  to  her  box  like 
her  dog,  which  I  am.  She  extended  two  gloved 
fingers,  motioning  me  to  a  seat  behind  her 
aunt.  She  seemed  to  be  coquetting  with  Berg, 
and  to  relegate  me  to  a  second  place,  arid  I 
asked  myself  for  the  hundredth  time  if  it  were 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  19«j 

indeed  this  woman  or  some  other  whom  I  had 
that  day  crushed  against  my  breast.  When  I 
had  reached  the  last  stage  of  depression,  she 
suddenly  turned  and  gave  me  a  radiant  smile, 
with  tender,  quivering  lips,  and  my  spirit  leaped 
up  again  to  her  with  its  accustomed  worship. 
They  promised  to  breakfast  with  me  to-morrow, 
but,  except  superficially,  we  had  no  opportunity 
for  any  talk,  and  with  this  meagre  diet  I  had 
to  be  content. 

March  10. — Mrs.  North  accompanied  her 
niece,  and  I  asked  Berg  and  Prince  SarVet  and 
young  Madame  de  Barythine  and  her  devoted 
Dmitri.  I  was  more  agitated  at  the  idea  that 
Daphne  would  cross  my  threshold  than  when, 
a  young  officer  of  twenty,  a  royal  visit  was 
expected  at  the  Caserne.  I  passed  the  morn 
ing  in  gross  violation  of  my  promise  to  confer 
with  Narishkine  at  the  Ministry,  and  in  abso 
lute  neglect  of  all  my  official  duties,  trying  to 
bring  my  rooms  to  such  a  state  of  order  as 
would  commend  them  to  my  lady's  eyes.  I 
personally  superintended  Gustav's  and  Au 
gust's  disposition  of  the  table  and  flowers,  the 


200  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

bric-a-brac  and  furniture,  sofas,  chairs,  cush 
ions,  and  fires.  I  passed  in  review  the  various 
photographs  which  adorned  the  mantel  and 
itaghes,  and  confiscated  such  as  might  arouse 
a  moment's  uneasiness  in  the  breast  of  my 
lovely  guest. 

I  will  say  here,  in  parenthesis,  that  I  might 
have  spared  myself  the  trouble,  as  she  did  not 
once  glance  in  the  direction  of  those  which 
remained.  Daphne,  unlike  other  women,  is 
never  eager  or  curious.  But  is  she  loving? 
She  has  certainly  fully  fathomed  the  power  of 
indifference,  an  indifference  which  seems  to 
acknowledge  and  grant  no  claims.  She  leaves 
one  absolutely  free,  but  this  magnanimity  is 
bitter-sweet ! 

Among  the  photographs  which  I  threw  into 
the  fire  was  one  of  Nathalie's  torso  which  I 
had  left  upon  my  table,  because  of  a  certain 
nervous  strength  in  the  'outline  which  had 
caught  my  fancy.  She  had  sent  it  to  me  since 
her  hasty  flight  from  Russia  after  Strogonoff's 
suicide,  with  a  newspaper  clipping  expatiating 

s 

on  her  Viennese  triumphs.     One  night  after 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  201 

dancing  the  Kamarinskaia  she  was  called  out 
fifteen  times,  covered  with  flowers,  and  one  of 
her  slippers  was  put  up  at  auction  and  sold  for 
two  thousand  marks.  "  My  cheeks  were  wet 
with  tears,"  she  wrote,  "  for  it  was  poor  Stro- 
gonoff  who  first  taught  me  that  dance,  and  I 
thought  of  him,  of  Russia,  and  of  you,  cruel 
man,  whose  horrible  heartlessness  has  not  yet 
killed  my  love.  In  a  P.  S.  she  adds,  "  They 
say  she  is  going  back  to  America  without  you." 
Where  did  the  little  viper  get  this  bit  of 
information,  I  wonder ! 

I  left  some  family  portraits  and  all  those  of 
the  royalties ;  while  Flavie's,  with  her  hair  in 
bandeaux,  had  such  an  air  of  respectability  and 
austere  virtue  that  I  allowed  it  to  remain  upon 
the  liagere  over  which  she  has  presided  ever 
since  I  unpacked.  Poor  girl !  and  yet  how  truly 
these  women  who  know  no  arts  can  love  us ! 

So  Daphne  came.  How  dear  she  was !  and 
she  seemed  happy;  and  how  thankful  was  I 
that  my  adored  one  should  bring  her  loveliness 
to  grace  my  poor  table ! 

The  breakfast,  which  had  given  me  some 


202  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

anxiety,  was  excellent,  and  the  ladies'  bouquets 
seemed  to  please  them.  The  conversation  was 
animated  and  everyone  at  ease  and  apparently 
well  content.  Dmitri,  to  be  sure,  was  tiresome, 
fulfilling  the  assertion  that  "  There  is  nothing 
so  fatiguing  as  the  conversation  of  a  lover  who 
has  nothing  to  hope  and  nothing  to  fear." 
Mrs.  Acton,  who  declares  herself  accomplished 
in  chirosophy,  read  my  hand's  lines  during  the 
d&jeuner,  causing  much  merriment  thereby.  "  I 
see,"  she  said,  "  impulsive  valor  mingled  with 
a  certain  inflexibility.  It  is  eminently  a  hand 
of  activity.  You  are  a  soldier,  not  a  phi 
losopher.  "Women  will  only  have  such  influ 
ence  upon  your  destiny  as  you  choose  to  accord 
them.  You  are  ambitious,  master  of  yourself, 
eminently  conservative,  with  an  immense  re 
spect  for  authority." 

Some  one  begged  to  look  at  her  hand.  "  My 
hand,"  she  said,  "  betokens  love  of  change,  an 
American's  lamentable  absence  of  reverence, 
and  acute  dislike  of  being  bored." 

"  Does  it  not  betoken  some  cruelty  ?"  I  asked, 
low. 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  203 

"  No,"  she  replied ;  "  pitifulness  lias  been  my 
bane.  I  am  cruel  only  to  myself." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this  ?"  I  asked,  laugh 
ing.  "  Did  anybody  ever  bore  you  .  .  .  and 
live?" 

"  It  is  evident,"  turning  to  her  aunt,  "  that 
monsieur  has  not  stopped  in  country-houses 
in  America.  People  have  bored  me  there  by 
the  hour,  and  I  regret  to  say  that  they  still 
survive:" 

"  Daphne,  how  can  you  be  so  unpatriotic  ?" 
cried  Mrs.  North. 

"  The  nice  people  always  leave  the  day  they 
are  wanted,  and  the  dull  ones  remain  until 
one  is  ready  to  curse  God  and  die." 

"  I  don't  doubt  you  have  often  treated 
people  so,  Daphne,"  said  Mrs.  North. 

"  Thank  you,  ma  tonic,  for  the  compliment. 
I  don't  wonder  you  think  I  am  one  of  those 
who  stop  too  long." 

"  Don't  angle  for  compliments.  You  know 
perfectly  well  you  think  yourself  one  of  the 
nice  ones  who  always  leave  too  soon.  But 
surely  no  one  ever  departed  from  Quimby 


204  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

before  you   desired.      She   is   a  spoilt  little 
thing,"  she  said,  turning  to  me. 

"  Quimby  is  your  country  home,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  a  dear  place." 

"  Do  you  miss  it  ?"  She  was  on  my  left,  and 
I  could  catch  her  words.  There  was  a  ring  of 
self-scorn  in  her  low  tones. 

"  I  have  thought  lately  that  if  I  could  blot 
out  America  and  all  I  own  there,  and  all  of  my 
past  and  all  of  my  probable  future,  and  just  live 
to-day,  cevodnia,  this  Russian  day,  this  Russian 
hour,  this  Russian  moment,  forever  and  for 
ever,  I  should  be  glad."  The  last  word  was 
a  sigh. 

I  felt  myself  grow  pale  with  the  nearness 
of  her  terrible  loveliness.  Berg  sat  with  wide- 
eyes,  not  hearing  her,  but  gazing  at  her  as 
if  hypnotized.  The  others  were  still  looking 
at  each  other's  hand-lines.  Young  Madame 
de  Barythine  wished  to  have  her  hand  read, 
and  Dmitri's.  She  seized  Mrs.  Acton's  across 
Berg,  comparing  it  with  her  own. 

"  What  is  this  deep  line  you  have  crossing 
your  palm  ?" 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  205 

"Ah,  that  is  my  safeguard,  stronger  to  a 
woman  than  religion  or  morality." 

"  And  that  is " 

"  The  fear  of  disgust.  Do  you  not  think," 
she  continued,  addressing  the  fair  Wasia, "  that 
the  fear  of  disgust  is  a  rampart  for  us  to  hide 
behind?" 

Madame  de  Barythine  adjusted  her  lorgnon, 
but  not  finding  this  "  safeguard"  in  her  own 
pink  palm,  turned  and  gazed  helplessly  about 
the  table.  "  Elk  est  drole  !"  she  said,  under  her 
breath,  and  then  she  turned  and  chided  Dmitri 
for  being  so  dull. 

The  morning  waned.  All  I  have  of  her 
now  is  the  vague  perfume  which  she  has  left 
behind  her,  and  a  little  forgotten  veil,  which 
I  have  fallen  upon  and  fairly  devoured. 

March  11. — My  proc&s  is  won.  The  offending 
editor  has  been  locked  up  for  six  months.  It 
should  have  been  for  six  years.  The  court  is 
all  wreathed  in  smiles  of  congratulations. 
Humph !  The  Empress  has  given  me  her 
picture,  and  lisped  some  friendly  words  to  me 
as  I  bowed  over  her  outstretched  fingers. 
18 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

Even  the  Czar's  impenetrable  visage  lighted 
up  with  its  rare  smile.  There  is  a  rout  at  the 
Anitchkoff.  The  maids  of  honor  are  very 
condescending  and  gracious ;  they  flutter  about 
like  little  butterflies,  with  their  knots  of  blue 
ribbon  caught  on  their  left  shoulders  in  their 
diamond  monograms.  Daphne  is  not  there, 
but  the  thought  of  her  lends  wings  to  my  fancy, 
and  I  let  myself  be  cajoled  and  petted,  while 
my  mind  wanders  off  to  that  "  gay  to-morrow" 
in  which  one's  mistress  is  never  cold.  I  am  in 
a  good  humor.  When  I  reach  home  I  enclose 
two  thousand  rubles  in  an  envelope,  and  direct 
them  to  the  far-off  address  in  the  slumbering 
provinces  where  the  editor's  family  await  the 
term  of  his  punishment.  They  are  poor. 

March  12. — We  seem  to  have  drifted  back, 
at  her  desire,  into  our  old  relations.  I  will 
not  be  importunate  or  indelicate.  Something 
tells  me  that  to  press  my  suit  too  boldly  now 
would  be  to  jeopardize  my  own  happiness. 
She  will  accord  me  no  more  favors,  and  I  must 
perforce  bow  to  her  decree. 

This  afternoon  she  deigned  to  visit  with  me 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  207 

the  church  of  Our  Lady  of  Kazan.  I  was,  as 
usual,  early  at  the  rendezvous.  On  entering 
the  church  I  found  a  marriage  in  progress. 
The  singers  were  shouting  "Let  Isaiah  re 
joice  !"  in  their  most  jubilant  voices,  and  the 
great  cathedral  seemed  to  tremble  in  a  re 
sponsive  sympathy  to  the  joyful  hymns  of 
the  choristers.  As  I  drew  near  to  the  circle 
of  friends  and  the  few  stragglers  whom  the 
ceremony  had  attracted,  the  bride  and  groom 
were  just  moistening  their  lips  at  the  cup 
which  is  termed  the  cup  of  bitterness.  I 
watched  them  as  they  walked  three  times 
round  the  altar,  while  the  pages  followed  them 
with  painstaking  outstretched  arms,  holding 
over  their  heads  the  golden  crowns.  The 
bride's  taper  seemed  in  dangerous  proximity 
to  her  veil.  She  had  a  funny  little  pug  nose, 
was  blonde,  commonplace,  and  composed, 
while  the  groom,  a  mere  boy,  looked  frightened 
to  death.  They  then  prostrated  themselves 
before  the  Virgin  of  the  Iconostase,  while  I 
wandered  away  a  little,  wondering  why  Mrs. 
Acton  did  not  arrive. 


208  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

When  the  wedding-guests  had  dispersed, 
I  returned  to  this  ancient  Virgin,  hoping 
her  serenity  might  quiet  my  impatience.  She 
was  brought  from  Kazan  in  1579,  and  is 
incrusted  with  fabulously  valuable  jewels, 
among  them  that  great  sapphire  presented 
to  her  by  the  Grand  Duchess  Catharine 
Paulovna,  and  a  huge  diamond  which  was 
floated  down  the  Volga  by  Ivan  Vassilievitch 
to  Moscow,  and  thence  to  Petersburg  by  Peter 
the  Great.  The  verger  seemed  to  disapprove 
of  my  long  contemplation,  and  jostled  me  as 
he  passed,  and  I  moved  on  to  examine  the 
military  trophies  which  make  of  this  church  a 
species  of  arsenal.  I  paused  a  moment  by 
the  tomb  of  General  Prince  Smolenskoi,  who 
prayed  upon  this  spot  before  going  to  battle, 
and  it  was  here  that  Mrs.  Acton  found  me. 

"  True  to  your  martial  predilections,"  she 
said.  We  walked  about  the  church  together, 
speaking  little,  but  upon  me  was  that  sense  of 
ecstasy  which  her  presence  ever  brings.  By 
and  by  we  sat  down  side  by  side  under  a 
swinging  lamp  and  watched  a  bent  old  woman 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  209 

mumbling  her  prayers.  At  last  we  came  out 
under  the  colonnade  and  paced  up  and  down, 
waiting  for  the  Norths'  equipage,  which  was 
to  be  sent  back  for  Mrs.  Acton  from  the 
Xaviers'  reception,  whither  her  aunt  had  gone. 
Mrs.  Acton  spoke  of  the  hope  and  consolation 
the  Russian  seems  to  find  in  his  religion. 
"  After  all,"  she  said,  "  old  age  has  nothing 
else.  What  shall  I  do  when  I  am  old  ?  Mine 
is  such  a  fitful  faith." 

I  interrupted  her,  beginning  to  speak  of  the 
pleasures  of  age  and  its  compensations.  She 
lifted  her  hand  and  made  a  motion  as  if  to  lay 
it  across  my  lips. 

"  I  know  all  you  would  say.  In  your  family 
you  have  a  beloved,  gentle-souled  old  lady,  or 
an  uncle  of  ninety  who  has  kept  his  front 
teeth,  and  you  yourself  anticipate,  nay,  feel 
sure,  that  the  end  of  your  life  shall  be  digni 
fied  and  serene.  No  doubt,  no  doubt  we  can 
all  find  among  the  wrecks  of  life  a  few  in 
stances  of  arrested  decay,  where  the  body — 
and  even  the  heart — have  been  tenderly  dealt 
with  by  fate,  but  oh,  mon  ami  I  old  age  at  the 

o  18* 


210  A  DIPLOMATS  DIARY 

best  is  hideous,  and  how  futile  and  superficial 
is  the  intercourse  of  the  young  and  of  the  old. 
How  restive  they  make  us !  Have  you  ever 
knelt  at  some  veteran's  feet  and  asked  him 
almost  with  agony  to  show  you  the  way? 
Have  you  craved  to  open  yourself  to  him  in 
confidence,  longing  for  his  guidance  ?  I  will 
wager  that  the  answer  was  either  impatient 
rebuke  or  cowardly  evasion.  The  mind 
grows  lazy,  the  heart  torpid.  I  think  the 
passions  have  no  memory  when  they  do  not 
crystallize  into  malice.  Older  people  have 
harassed  me  with  censure,  with  ill-timed, 
foolish  counsels,  have  quarrelled  with,  fretted 
at,  and  well-nigh  distracted  me ;  but  where  is 
the  calm,  just  spirit  which,  looking  back  on 
the  battle  and  its  dust,  on  its  humbling  defeats 
and  hardly-won  triumphs,  praises,  pities, 
encourages,  saying,  '  Thus  and  thus  was  it 
with  me ;  take  heart,  child !'  No ;  depend 
upon  it,  monsieur,  old  people  are  horribly 
frivolous,  busy  with  petty  and  soul-debasing 
trifles,  and  that  is  why  I  pity  them  so  pro 
foundly. — Have  you  ever  boen  very  angry?" 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  211 

she  asked  me  suddenly,  as  if  following  some 
train  of  recollection. 

"  Yes,  very." 

"When?" 

"  Last  night,  with  Berg,  when  he  looked  at 
you  as  he  did." 

"  And  how  was  that  ?" 

"  Abominably,  and  you  do  not  resent  it." 

"  What  folly !     I  do  not  even  see  the  man." 

"  Well,  I  do,  and  I  grow  murderous." 

"  Nonsense !  I  don't  believe  you.  I  mean 
very,  very,  very  angry  ?" 

"  Have  you  been  so  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Tell  me  about  it." 

"Ah,  there  too  were  older  people  who 
should  have  helped  me !  I  had  sacrificed  my 
life,  my  youth,  and  then  .  .  .  they  failed  me, . . . 
they  would  not  understand."  She  spoke  with 
suppressed  feeling,  as  if  at  the  memory  of 
some  deeply-resented  wrong. 

"  And  you  were  angry  ?" 

"  Don't  let  me  talk  of  it,"  she  said,  hurriedly ; 
"  mine  is  not  a  forgiving  nature." 


212  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

As  she  spoke,  she  stepped  quickly  out  from 
under  the  arcade  into  the  square,  whither  I 
followed  her,  and  we  were  startled  to  find  that 
it  was  almost  night.  I  peered  about  in  vain, 
for  the  sleigh  and  Alexei  were  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  My  own  equipage  was  being  walked 
hither  and  thither,  up  and  across  the  Nevsky, 
where  the  usual  crowd  were  promenading  with 
concealed  faces,  unreal  and  shadowy.  The 
statues  of  Smolenskoi  and  Barclay  de  Tolly 
stood  out  against  the  dying  day  on  an  horizon 
gemmed  with  stars. 

"  How  very  strange !"  Mrs.  Acton  shivered 
slightly,  coming  out  from  the  shelter  into  the 
cold.  With  me  she  leaves  always  a  warmth 
and  light,  and  I  feel  neither  cold  nor  darkness 
by  her  side.  I  offered  her  my  sleigh,  but  I 
saw  her  hesitate. 

"  It  is  so  well  known,  so  conspicuous,"  she 
said,  a  little  nervously. 

"You  cannot  stand  here  any  longer,"  I 
said,  authoritatively,  and  hailed  a  miserable 
drosky,  dismissing  my  own  conveyance.  I 
motioned  to  my  servant  to  jump  on  the  box,  anr1 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  213 

had  soon  ensconced  Mrs.  Acton  in  a  corner  of 
the  wretched  vehicle,  and  myself  by  her  side. 

It  is  not  customary  in  Petersburg  for  a 
young  woman  to  drive  alone  through  the 
streets  at  dusk  with  any  man,  much  less  with 
one  who  must,  by  this  time,  be  well  known  in 
her  world  as  an  ardent  admirer.  I  felt  vexed 
for  her,  and  could  see  that  she  was  herself 
annoyed.  The  perfect  composure,  however, 
the  die  once  cast,  with  which  she  accepted  the 
irremediable-,  and  her  avoidance  of  the  subject 
during  our  homeward  drive,  struck  me  as 
distinctly  high-bred.  My  proud  darling ! 

Light  women  explain,  flush,  play  the 
prude,  at  the  "  Qu'en  direct-cm  ?"  Daphne  Is 
sure  of  herself.  She  never  explains  anything, 
and  allows  others  to  form  their  own  conclu 
sions.  This  haughtiness  is  dear  to  me,  with 
its  assurance  of  an  innate  purity.  As  she 
arranged  her  draperies  I  felt  as  if  she  were 
encased  in  armor. 

The  young  woman  was  safe  from  any  whis 
per  of  mine,  even  in  praise  of  her  grace  and 
her  beauty,  nor  would  I  have  dared  remind 


214  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

her  that  her  lips  had  once  for  one  moment 
been  mine.  How  we  stout-hearted  warriors 
quail  before  a  woman's  possible  displeasure ! 
During  our  homeward  drive  we  exchanged  few 
words,  and  these  remained  within  the  bounds 
of  the  most  absolute  reserve.  Why  is  it  that 
the  very  first  time  I  saw  this  lady  I  felt  as 
does  the  swimmer  when  he  passes  from  the 
shallow  into  the  ocean  waters  ?  They  look  like 
the  others ;  they  are  still,  quiet,  and  alluring, 
but  he  knows  that  he  has  slipped  into  the 
deeps.  He  hears  the  light  sigh  of  the  begin 
nings  of  life ;  nameless  creatures  press  around 
him,  whose  shapes  are  unfamiliar,  and  he 
shivers,  for  he  knows  he  has  entered  into  the 
untried  seas. 

March  13. — I  wonder  if  what  she  says  of  me 
is  true :  that  I  am  too  conservative  ?  Have  1 
already  in  me  the  germs  of  that  narrowness 
which  she  so  deprecates  in  the  old  ?  She  once 
said  that  perfectly-satisfied  people  could  never 
be  reformers.  She  was  right. 

March  14. — Reading  one  of  Dostoievsky's 
dolorous  stories.  How  different  from  the 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  215 

labored  grossness  of  the  French  writers  of 
to-day  is  the  realism  of  these  Russians!  It 
has  kept  in  touch  with  the  heartaches  of  the 
world,  and  has  a  sympathy  which  the  French 
have  lost.  One  never  hears  the  ricanement  of 
its  unbelief.  There  is  still  left  a  breath  of  the 
illimitable.  I  read  a  little  from  the  original. 
This  boneless,  supple  tongue  charms  me,  al 
though  I  am  stupid  at  grasping  its  intricacies. 
And  what  a  queer  people,  with  their  intense 
patriarchal  institutions,  taking  refuge  under 
the  wings  of  an  absolute  throne !  "  Poumri 
avant  d'etre  mure!"  We  shall  see.  I  fell  to 
singing  the  words  of  Tutchef : 

"  Comme  le  globe  terrestre 
Est  enveloppe  de  l'oce"an, 
Ainsi  la  vie  terrestre 
Est  entouree  de  songes." 

Is  my  passion,  too,  a  dream  ? 

March  15. — We  c  ourt-fossils  are  accustomed 
to  breathe  only  evil  smells  or  perfumes. 
These  Americans  seem  to  bring  us  fresher  air. 
How  it  woos  the  enfeebled  lungs  !  Air !  air ! 
Fear  her  I  feel  the  dust  of  my  old  prejudices 


216  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

blow  away.  She  told  me  to-day,  suddenly, 
that  she  must  return  to  America.  I  try  in 
vain  to  combat  her  resolve.  My  pleadings 
seemed  only  to  agitate  her,  and  my  prayers 
were  useless. 

March  17. — Mrs.  North,  in  her  bizarre, 
rapid  way,  said  to  me  this  evening,  "  I  wish 
Daphne  to  accompany  me  to  the  Riviera,  where 
I  am  going  while  Mr.  North  runs  over  to 
America  for  a  few  weeks  to  look  after  his 
private  affairs,  but  she  insists  that  she  must 
return  with  her  uncle,  and  grows  excited  if  I 
urge  her  to  remain.  In  fact,  she  seems  in 
feverish  haste  to  start.  I  don't  pretend  to  un 
derstand  her,  and  I  doubt  if  anybody  ever  will, 
unless,  indeed,  monsieur,"  she  added,  smiling, 
"  you  have  fathomed  her.  I  wish  we  might 
yet  persuade  her  to  remain  among  us.  I  con 
fess  I  have  thought  her  very  happy  here.  I 
am  afraid,"  she  continued,  lowering  her  voice, 
"that  she  is  contemplating  something  self- 
sacrificing  and  uncomfortable,  and  her  sacri 
fices  are  apt  to  be  tremendous." 

I  am  profoundly  distressed.     I  now  feel  sure 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  217 

that  she  hides  some  entanglement  from  me, 
and  I  also  feel  sure  that  it  is  nothing  which  in 
any  way  casts  discredit  upon  herself.  I  will 
trust  to  the  nobility  of  her  nature  and  place 
all  my  hope  in  the  future.  In  a  few  weeks,  at 
best,  I  can  follow  her  and  know  my  fate.  I 
cannot  persecute  her  now.  She  seems  un 
happy. 

March  28. — She  is  gone  ! 

Leaning  on  her  uncle's  arm,  in  her  dark-red 
coat  with  its  black  furs,  she  entered  the  gare. 
A  large  party  had  come  to  see  her  off.  I 
stood  in  the  shadow.  She  carried  my  flowers 
in  her  hands  and  a  knot  of  them  at  her  throat. 
She  looked  pale  under  her  little  toque  and 
black  veil.  Her  eyes  sought  me.  I  stepped 
forward  quickly  to  her  side  into  the  garish 
light.  People  who  were  hurrying  hither  and 
thither  stopped  and  stared  at  our  party,  for 
we  formed  a  group  in  striking  contrast  to  the 
rest  of  the  waiting  crowd,  the  women  in  light 
dinner  dresses  only  half  concealed  by  their 
dark  wraps,  and  the  men  in  full  evening  tog 
gery.  She  leaves  them  all;  she  draws  away 

x  19 


218  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

her  hand  from  her  uncle's  arm  and  places  it 
in  mine.  The  others  fall  back,  seeming  to 
understand,  and  gather  about  Mrs.  North, 
who  is  also  leaving  for  the  south.  Mr.  North 
accompanies  his  niece  to  America.  The  First 
Secretary  of  Legation,  who  is  to  be  chargt 
during  the  Minister's  short  absence,  is  piloting 
Mrs.  North,  and  maids  and  men  servants 
come  after,  laden  with  bags  and  furs. 

Enigmatical  to  the  last,  Mrs.  Acton  per 
emptorily  forbids  me  to  follow  her  immedi 
ately.  "  I  must  go  back  to  my  own  country," 
she  says,  hurriedly.  "  Until  then  I  can  say 
nothing.  I  will  write  you  at  once.  I  will 
write,  I  promise.  Ask  me  no  further  ques 
tions,  but  remember  you  are  free." 

"  No,"  I  answer ;  "  I  am  not  free,  for  I  love 
you !"  and  when  I  say  these  words  she  listens, 
— listens  with  avidity,  with  parted  lips  and 
dreamful  eyes.  What  means  this,  if  not  the 
token  of  an  answering  love  ? 

The  whistle  blows.  A  railroad  official  asks 
me  rather  roughly  if  I  want  seats,  and 
requests  our  party  not  to  block  the  way  of 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  219 

travellers;  then  recognizes  and  salutes  me, 
muttering  a  hasty  apology.  An  old  Russian 
woman  carrying  a  big  bundle  pushes  up 
against  us.  I  can  almost  feel  Daphne's  heart 
beat  against  mine.  We  all  step  out  upon  the 
platform.  I  grasp  Mrs.  North's  hand  in  fare 
well.  Hers  is  cordial,  almost  affectionate. 
Then  I  hold  Daphne's  a  moment,  whispering 
in  her  ear,  "  I  love  you  until  death !"  There 
are  two  crimson  spots  upon  her  cheeks  now, 
but  she  is  dry-eyed.  She  enters  the  car.  The 
train  moves  off.  I  can  see  her  face  but  dimly 
through  the  frosty  pane.  The  others  wave 
hats  and  handkerchiefs;  some  of  the  women 
are  a  little  tearful.  "Dobravo  putie  !"  they  cry. 
Berg  is  funereal.  They  all  go  away  and  leave 
me.  I  mechanically  raise  my  cap.  The  train 
has  moved  out — I  am  alone. 

April  2. — I  went  this  evening  to  the  Isaac- 
quientski  Sabor.  The  Chantres  de  la  Cour 
were  singing  for  some  special  service.  Mont- 
ferrand  is  a  clever  artist.  How  simple  and  im 
posing  is  this  edifice  !  Built  on  a  marsh,  how 
securely  it  seems  to  stand !  "Will  it  one  day 


220  A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

crumble  like  our  most  solid  hopes  ?  I  gazed 
curiously  up  into  the  prestol  with  its  steps  of 
porphyry,  its  dome  of  malachite,  and  its  walls 
of  lapis-lazuli.  It  makes  the  eyes  blink.  I  sat 
in  a  dark  corner  and  listefled  to  the  quaint, 
sad  strains  of  the  boy  choristers,  The  one 
word  "  gospode"  rose  up  faintly  and  far  into 
the  dome.  All  the  others  were  indistinct.  It 
sounded  more  like  a  plaint  than  an  invocation. 
I  knelt  a  moment;  I  could  not  pray,  but  1 
gazed  up  at  the  pale  ardent  Christ  of  the  great 
window,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  meet  mine, 
full  of  a  human  anguish.  Later  I  went  up 
to  the  dome.  I  had  not  made  the  ascent  be 
fore.  "When,  a  little  breathless,  I  reached  the 
top,  looking  northward,  I  could  see,  across  the 
river,  Basil's  Island,  and  Aptekarski,  and  the 
Gelagin,  where  the  people  go  on  summer 
nights.  The  desolate  fortress,  in  bitter  irony, 
looked  like  some  enchanted  palace,  and  the 
Dvortsovy  and  Troitskoi  bridges,  like  sharp, 
dark  furrows  upon  a  waste  of  snows. 

The   great   height   calmed  me.     My  eyes 
seemed  to  pierce   the  mists  far,  far,  I  even 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  221 

4fe 

fancied  to  where  the  Atlantic  tosses  its  angry, 
cruel  waters.  Ce  lointain  sans  forme  qui  appelle 
d  lui.  She  is  indeed  gone. 

April  11. — I  walk  almost  daily  in  the 
Lietne  Sadou.  At  first  the  guards,  with  the 
acumen  of  their  class,  looked  encouragement 
at  me,  as  if  to  say,  "  She  is  late,  but  will  yet 
come."  Now,  after  the  salute,  they  do  not 
notice  me.  To-day  they  winked  at  each 
other,  as  if  to  say,  "  She  will  come  no  more." 
One  day  I  must  have  slept  from  cold  on  one 
of  the  benches.  I  awoke  with  a  sweet,  wild 
tumult  in  my  poor  old  heart.  I  thought  I  had 
seen  her  shadow  fall  across  my  feet.  I  rose 
and  shook  myself,  and  stumbled  blindly  out 
into  the  deserted  alleys.  I  like  this  garden 
very  much,  although  it  plays  me  such  tricks. 
Of  how  much  torture  is  the  human  brain  capa 
ble  ?  Men  have  always  said  I  was  very  sane. 
I  do  not  know.  Let  me  see  ?  Fifteen — eighteen 
days, — we  will  say  twenty.  Surely,  surely  the 
letter  will  come  soon.  She  said,  "  I  will  not 
write  until  I  reach  New  York."  Twenty  days 
is  enormous.  It  permits  the  ship  to  break  a 
19* 


222  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

shaft,  and  the  train  to  be  blocked  for  forty- 
eight  hours,  and — fool  that  I  am ! 

April  27. — One  more  day.  If  the  letter  be 
not  here  to-morrow,  I  leave  for  America. 
What  is  this  woman,  to  play  so  on  my  heart 
strings  ?  I  hate  her ! 

April  28. — I  went  to  see  old  Madame  de. 
Barythine.  She  received  me  in  her  faded 
salon,  with  its  fine  hangings  ^and  pictures. 
There  are  three  portraits  of  herself  when  she 
was  young.  She  does  not  affect  the  worn-out 
liveries  of  youth,  but  has  the  good  taste  and 
the  courage  to  dress  as  befits  her  age,  and 
to  be  gray-haired.  A  rather  shabby  young 
man  served  tea  in  little  golden  cups.  She 
found  fault  with  him  for  not  being  dressed, 
and  confided  to  me  once  more  that  since  the 
depression  of  'the  ruble  and  the  enormous  ex 
penditure  of  her  husband's  mausoleum  she  had 
sent  to  her  estates  for  young  moujiks  and  tried 
to  train  them  as  house-servants.  "  But,"  she 
added,  "  they  are  a  lazy,  dirty  lot,  and  I  am 
entirely  discouraged."  Her  relatives  tell  me 
she  is  very  rich. 


A   DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  223 

Bent  on  entertaining  me,  she  showed  me 
numerous  photographs  of  the  late  Count,  and 
also  one  of  the  Princesse  X.,  who  she  said  was 
his  first  love.  "  My  husband,"  she  said,  "  had 
two  loves  in  his  life,  the  Princesse  and  myself. 
He  married  me  after  this  liaison  was  over.  It 
nearly  broke  her  heart.  He  was  a  fascinating 
man.  She  had  two  sons.  They  are  very  nice 
fellows.  My  husband  always  assured  me  that 
they  were  not  his — let  us  hope  so.  Would  it 
amuse  you  to  see  my  jewels  ?" 

I  followed  her  into  a  smaller  drawing-room 
fitted  with  bookcases  surmounted  by  mirrors. 
She  produced  a  small  key  from  her  watch- 
chain,  and,  unlocking  a  drawer,  pulled  it  open, 
and,  taking  up  a  tray,  quite  dazzled  me. 
She  scooped  up  and  dangled  before  me  such 
magnificent  black  pearls,  such  rivers  of  dia 
monds  and  of  rubies.  There  were  turquoises, 
too,  that  looked  like  robin's  eggs.  She  en 
joyed  fondling  them  with  her  fat  white  hands. 
"My  nieces  wish  me  to  make  the  disposi 
tion,"  she  said,  "  but  there  is  really  no  hurry. 
I  promise  nothing.  They  may  all  yet  go 


224  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

to  deck  the  icons  of  our  parish  church. 
Entre  nous,  cher  Comte,  my  nieces  are  heartless 
enough  hussies,  not  worth  much.  Ida  would 
not  cross  the  street  to  give  a  pleasure  to  her 
old  aunt,  and  Wasia, — well,  "Wasia  is  charming 
enough,  hut  .  .  .  you  know  what  they  say. 
By  the  way,  how  do  you  live  on  without  your 
lovely  American  ?"  And  the  old  lady  looked 
up  at  me  with  keen,  kind  eyes. 

"  I  am  not  alive  at  all." 

"  Ah !     I  knew,  I  knew !" 

She  was  very  tactful,  and  spoke  in  praise 
of  my  beloved.  She  poured  balm  into  my 
wounds,  purring  over  me  as  women  like  to  do, 
and  I  sat  with  a  sense  of  comfort  and  content 
by  her  fireside,  sipping  her  tea  and  listening  to 
her  soft  garrulity. 

"Eh!  Why  not,  why  not?  She  is  free, 
she  is  rich;  it  would  be  excellent,  perfect. 
They  are  very  pretty,  these  Americans,  and 
clever  too,  I  imagine ;  a  little  accentuated,  per 
haps,  but  what  will  you  have,  my  dear  ?  The 
world  must  move  on  and  one  must  march  with 
it.  My  Figaro  tells  me  in  their  large  cities 


A  DIPLOMATS  DIARY  225 

they  have  quite  a  society.  It  is  wonderful! 
Qu'endirait  Bismarck?  Eh!"  And  she  chuckled. 

And  I,  who  hate  visits  and  ugly  old  women, 
sat  on,  dreading  to  move  out  into  the  outside 
wilderness  of  the  world. 

April  30. — When  Gustav  opened  my  shut 
ters  this  morning  I  had  a  sense  of  impending 
doom.  My  porter  came  up  with  that  triste, 
confused,  and  irresolute  manner  which  char 
acterizes  nearly  all  of  these  sons  of  the  pallid 
steppes,  and  is  in  such  quaint  contrast  with  the 
robustness  of  their  appearance,  a  look  as  if 
they  were  in  contemplation  of  something  puz 
zling  and  elusive.  He  came  to  tell  me  that 
the  mail-train  had  met  with  an  accident  and 
was  delayed  at  Eydtkuhnen,  and  that  the 
papers  and  letters  would  not  he  delivered  until 
noon.  A  messenger  from  the  Embassy  had 
stopped  to  bring  me  these  tidings.  He  went 
off  humming  a  Slav  ditty,  the  folk-lore  of  the 
fishermen  on  the  great  rivers  and  of  the  Cos 
sacks  of  the  Ukraine,  which  he  doubtless 
learned  in  childhood  in  his  village  of  the 
Don.  These  songs  are  full  of  a  burning  ten- 

r 


226  ^  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

derness  and  melancholy,  and  seem  to  rest  with 
Borrow  upon  one's  heart.  Perhaps  it  was  this 
song,  indistinctly  heard,  which  had  caused  me 
to  awaken  with  a  peculiar  expectation. 

"When  the  courier  did  at  last  arrive  I  knew 
that  my  hour  had  come.  I  did  not  open  my 
letter  then ;  it  burned  me.  I  hurried  into  my 
coat  and  cap  and  got  out  into  the  street.  I 
was  hardly  conscious  of  whither  I  went  until 
the  old  guards  of  the  Lietn&  Sadou  saluted 
me.  I  had,  indeed,  crossed  the  square  and  the 
bridge  like  a  somnambulist.  The  air  was  soft 
and  heavy.  There  was  that  lurid  light  in  the 
dull  sky  which  in  summer  presages  thunder. 
To-day  I  knew  it  was  only  the  vapors  caused 
by  a  sudden  thaw.  I  could  hear  the  distant 
rumbling  of  the  cracking  ice  on  the  Neva;  the 
pulsation  of  its  imprisoned  waters  came  to 
me,  half  stifled,  like  the  sigh  of  a  hidden  and 
distrustful  life.  Soon  the  river  would  be  break 
ing  up ;  soon  the  great  ice-blocks  would  come 
floating  down  from  Lake  Ladoga. 

I  found  my  way  to  a  seat  where  we  had 
often  rested  together,  near  the  Czar's  tea- 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  227 

house.  It  was  in  a  quiet  alley  under  the  drip 
ping  trees,  one  of  our  favorite  spots.  I  sat 
down,  and,  with  fingers  which  trembled,  I 
opened  my  great  coat,  unfastened  the  breast  of 
my  uniform,  and  drew  forth  the  letter.  But 
I  still  hesitated  to  break  the  seal.  No,  not 
yet,  not  yet!  I  turned  it  over  and  over.  I 
looked  at  the  post-marks  and  the  address.  I 
gloated  over  it  as  a  miser  over  his  ducats.  I 
had  suffered  so  much!  Here,  where  I  had 
loved  her  so  wildly,  where  she  had  leaned  so 
near  to  me,  I  should  at  last  read  my  fate.  The 
place  was  meet  enough.  In-doors  I  should 
have  stifled  with  the  tumult  of  my  emotion. 

A  sparrow  came  flying  from  a  neighboring 
tree  and  tumbled  about  in  the  mud  close  to 
my  feet.  It  seemed  very  tame.  I  suppose  it, 
too,  had  its  desires,  was  looking  for  its  crumbs. 
I  almost  wished  the  letter  might  be  short.  I 
have  faced  bullets  calmly,  but  this  letter  un 
nerved  me.  I  had  a  foolish  feeling  that  I 
might  be  struck  with  blindness  before  I  could 
finish  it.  I  only  wanted  the  one  word, 
"  Come !"  But  when  I  had  opened  it  I  saw 


228  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

that  it  was  of  several  pages.    This  is  what  I 
read : 

"  Do  not  curse  me — this  is  all  I  implore ! 
Oh,  noblest,  best,  truest,  bravest  of  men! 
when  you  open  this  letter  I  shall  be  married 
to  another.  Listen!  You  know  my  .first 
marriage.  It  was  nothing.  He  loved  me.  I 
sacrificed  myself  for  my  family.  He  thought 
that  he  was  going  to  die  at  once  and  leave 
me  all  and  his  name.  I  cannot  go  over  it 
now.  You  know  enough.  "Well,  all  those 
years,  those  years  of  widowed  youth,  when 
I  was  estranged  from  my  family  and  went 
home  to  my  splendid  loneliness,  poor,  un 
happy  child  that  I  was,  there  was  one  who 
had  a  care  for  me.  Oh,  how  he  loved  and 
succored  me !  He  is  not  a  hero,  like  you,  but 
he  loved  me.  He  is  not  beautiful  as  a  god, 
like  you,  but  he  loved  me.  Such  a  love !  So 
deep,  so  true,  so  tender,  so  strong,  so  simple. 
He  watched  over  me  all  those  years.  I  met 
him — no  matter  where — in  the  world,  I  think. 
He  stood  over  and  over  again  between  me  and 
calumny.  "When  I  was  reconciled  to  my 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  229 

people,  it  was  through  his  advice  and  aid. 
At  last  it  came  to  be  that  all  my  pleasures 
were  the  result  of  his  sacrifices;  all  of  my 
peace  was  at  the  expense  of  his.  When  I  was 
free,  he  wanted  me,  and  I  pledged  myself  un 
hesitatingly  to  him.  But ...  I  could  not  then. 
I  told  him  to  wait :  he  waited.  I  said,  '  Let 
me  go  to  my  uncle  in  Russia ;  do  not  follow 
me ;  there  my  term  of  mourning  will  expire, 
and  I  will  return  and  all  shall  be  as  you 
desire.'  I  wanted  time ;  I  had  stood  too  close 
to  death. 

"  The  first  time  I  ever  saw  you  I  was  dazzled 
by  your  power.  I  have  mumbled  for  years 
'  Lead  us  not  into  temptation'  upon  my  knees, 
but  in  Russia  I  really  prayed  for  the  first  time. 
I  almost  hated  you !  Do  you  remember  the 
day  we  passed  the  club,  and  again  when  you 
read  those  verses  to  me  at  the  Hermitage? 
I  did  it  expressly.  I  wished  to  disgust  and 
repel  you,  and  I  did  both,  for  a  moment,  I 
believe,  but  not  for  long  enough,  and  I  was 
weak,  and  we  were  weak,  were  we  not . . .  dear  ? 
But  nothiDg  that  I  could  have  done  would 
20 


230  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

have  repelled  or  disgusted  Az'w,  even  for  a  mo 
ment.  I  could  never  have  suited  you.  Berg, 
too,  tried  to  harm  you  in  my  estimation.  He 
told  me  that  you  had-  a  liaison  with  a  woman 
called  Nathalie ;  that  all  your  world  knew  of  it. 
I  did  not  believe  him,  and  yet  I  found  myself 
strangely  jealous,  for  I  know  that  you  are 
charming  to  women.  I  should  have  been 
madly  jealous  of  you;  it  would  have  debased 
and  killed  me.  Well,  it  was  no  use. 
"When  I  left  I  knew  not  what  I  should  do. 
After  the  evening  that  I  let  you  love  me  my 
self-respect  was  gone.  I  was,  oh,  how 
miserable !  I  felt  worse  than  the  lowest 
fallen.  -Oh,  I  suffered!  You  see,  I  love 
beautiful  things  too  much :  the  life  over 
there,  the  moonlit  nights,  the  troikas  flashing 
over  the  ice,  your  brilliant  talk,  your  courtly 
homage,  your  splendid  love!  Now  I  must 
never  again  think  of  them. 

"I  reached  the  port  and  he  came.  I  saw 
him  standing  on  the  ugly  black  dock  of  our 
great  American  town  in  the  cold  light  of  the 
damp  dawn.  He  had  stood  there  half  the 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  231 

night,  waiting.  I  shall  never  forget  his  eyes 
as  they  first  looked  into  mine.  The  sword  of 
his  sufferings  pierced  my  heart.  My  letters 
had  been  cold  and  then  had  ceased.  He  knew 
nothing.  He  grasped  my  hand,  and  his  first 
words  were,  '  Had  I  not  had  perfect  faith  in 
your  purity  and  in  your  loyalty  I  should  have 
sent  a  bullet  through  my  brain  long  since.' 
I  noticed  how  loosely  his  clothes  hung  upon 
him,  and  a  peculiar  thinness  about  his  throat 
and  cheeks  which  are  naturally  full  with  the 
roundness  of  health  and  of  youth.  He  had  not 
complained ;  he  is  not  dramatic.  Do  you  re 
member  the  picture  in  the  Hermitage  gallery  ? 
It  had  his  mouth  and  his  eyes,  and  I  knew 
then  that  if  I  broke  with  him  for  you  they 
would  forever  look  into  mine  and  haunt  me 
with  an  endless  remorse.  You  had  crossed 
my  path  for  an  hour,  but  he  was  all  bound  up 
with  a  tragic  past.  Yet  I  faltered !  but  that  is 
over.  My  friend,  good-by.  I  shall  never  look 
back  for  an  hour.  I  once  kissed  your  lips — do 
you  remember  it  ?  How  could  God  make  such 
treachery  so  sweet !  I  now  press  my  own  to 


232  A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY 

your  forehead  like  a  dying  sister,  and  I  pray 
that  the  angels  whom  I  have  so  offended  may 
give  you  of  their  peace.  My  friend,  farewell." 
For  a  moment  after  the  perusal  of  this  letter 
I  sat  like  one  stricken  with  palsy,  stupidly 
looking  at  the  little  bird  that  was  hopping 
about  agoin  pecking  at  the  soiled  snow,  watch 
ing  me  furtively  with  its  round  silly  eyes. 
Then  a  sudden  fury  and  despair  seized  me,  and 
I  tore  the  letter  with  my  teeth.  I  crushed  and 
mangled  it  as  if  it  had  been  the  soft  fingers 
which  had  dealt  the  cruel  blow,  and  in  so  doing 
I  was  conscious  of  a  certain  relief  and  pleasure. 
The  perfume  of  her  hands  seemed  to  linger  on 
the  paper,  and  shook  my  senses  with  memories 
of  poignant  sweetness.  A  cold  sweat  broke 
over  my  forehead.  I  gathered  up  the  torn  bits 
and  threw  them  from  me,  crushing  them  under 
my  heel  and  spur  into  the  snow.  They  were 
soon  an  unrecognizable  mass  of  filthy  pulp. 
One  white  piece,  indeed,  guttered  away,  and 
the  bird  picked  it  up,  eying  me  still  timidly, 
and  flew  off  with  it  to  build  its  nest.  I  remem 
ber  I  thought,  "  ^Vhat  a  mockery !" 


A  DIPLOMAT'S  DIARY  233 

I  have  no  recollection  of  how  long  I  sat  in 
the  garden,  how  many  minutes  or  hours  I 
paced  its  narrow  walks,  in  frenzied  haste,  each 
breath  that  I  drew  hurting  me  like  a  knife.  I 
only  know  that  my  youth  died.  When  the 
rage  had  spent  itself,  at  last,  I  came  back 
and  threw  myself  on  the  seat  exhausted,  and 
then  I  pulled  my  cap  down  over  my  eyes  and 
wept,  wept  as  women  do  at  a  child's  disgrace 
or  a  lover's  betrayal.  God  grant  that  I  may 
never  see  her  face  again  ! 


THE   END. 


RMNTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELFMM. 


DR.  RAMEAU. 


LIPPINCOTT'S  AUTHORIZED  EDITION. 


Translated  by  Mrs.  Cashel  Hoey.  A  New  Novel.  By 
Georges  Ohnet.  Illustrated.  I2mo.  Paper  binding, 
50  cents.  Extra  cloth,  $1.00. 


"  It  is  one  of  the  really  strong — one  might  say  powerful — 
novels  of  the  day." — Chicago  Times, 

"  Georges  Ohnet  was  a  master  without  this  work,  bufrhe  is  a 
greater  master  for  having  written  it." — Boston  Globe. 

"  The  novel  is  earnest  and  strong,  decidedly  the  best  work  yet 
accomplished  by  the  writer." — New  York  Home  Journal. 

"  This  fascinating  story  is  passionate,  yet  thoughtful,  and  full 
of  that  sympathy  for  human  weakness  which  wins  the  heart  of  the 
reader  at  once  and  puts  him  en  rapport  with  the  author.  We 
sincerely  recommend  this  ennobling  book  to  all  of  our  readers,  but 
especially  to  those  who  are  interested  in  the  theological  novels 
which  are  so  amazingly  popular  at  present." — Detroit  Commercial 
Advertiser. 

"Georges  Ohnet  has  depicted,  with  a  remarkable  blending 
of  boldness  and  delicacy,  the  career  of  a  distinguished  man  of 
science,  who  also  is  an  atheist,  and  who  is  led  to  believe  in  God 
by  his  experiences  and  trials.  The  faithlessness  of  his  wife  is  a 
prominent  element  of  the  plot,  yet  this  is  portrayed  with  such 
wisdom  that  its  sinfulness  is  caused  to  contribute  much  to  the 
pathos  and  moral  power  of  the  story.  The  minor  characters  are 
almost  as  fine  as  the  principal  ones." — Boston  Congregationalist. 


***  For  salt  by  all  Booksellers,  or  will  It  sent  by  ike  Publishers,  fost-paui, 
on  receipt  of  the  price. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY, 

715-717  MARKET  STREET, 
PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


ANTOINETTE;      / 

OR, 

•    .    THE  MARL-PIT  MYSTERY 

By  Georges  Ohnet,  author  of  "  Dr.    Rameau."    Twelve 
Illustrations,     izmo.     Cloth,  $1.00.    Paper,  50  cents. 


"  In  plot,  character,  dramatic  power,  style,  and  thought  the 
book  represents  what  is  best  in  contemporary  French  fiction.  It 
is  the  work  of  a  thorough  artist,  who  honors  his  art,  and  who 
does  not  bid  for  popularity  at  the  expense  of  the  proprieties,  anfl 
who  does  not  seek  for  originality  in  mere  eccentricity.  This 
novel  commends  itself  strongly  to  the  reader  by  the  skill  with 
which  its  plot  is  woven,  by  its  fine  analysis  of  motives,  its  vivid 
force  in  description,  and  its  quality  as  a  work  of  literary  art ;  and 
that  it  must  be  appreciated  at  its  best  value  by  all  thoughtful 
readers  is  unquestionable." — Boston  Gazette. 

"  There  are  few  novels  in  any  tongue  which  more  emphasize 
strength  and  nobility  of  character  and  a  purity  of  life  than 
'Antoinette.'  .  .  .  Few  recent  works  of  fiction  inspire  a  reader 
with  such  generous  and  lofty  ideas  of  life  and  action." — Chicago 
Times, 

"A  beautiful  and  yet  forceful  story,  well  conceived  and 
splendidly  told.  It  is  a  novel  of  a  thousand,  and  one  that  can  be 
read  again  and  again,  and  enjoyed  fully  with  every  reading." — 
Nashville  (Tenn.)  American. 


V  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  -will  be  sent  by  the  Publishers,  post-paid, 
on  receipt  of  the  price. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY, 

715-717  MARKET  STREET, 
......  PHILADELPHIA. 


LIBRARY 


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